Devoured, We Persevere
by MistPhoenix
Summary: Sequel to As It Consumes Us / The Governor has fled and the group has more than tripled in size. Food. Shelter. Medicine. Security. They seemed to have it all. The question is: How long can it last? Will they be able to make it work for the remainder of their lives or will they be forced to move on?
1. Consumed

**A/N: This is the sequel to my story As It Consumes Us. If you have yet to read it, please go back and read that one first. :) On another note, so sorry it took so long to get the sequel started. Once I finished AICU I got another story up and have been super busy at home. Loads and loads of work. haha. Plus I wasn't a huge fan of the second part of the prison so I really was dreading writing that part. BUT the finale of season 6 got me back in the mood to write some more for this story. I won't post any spoilers in case you have yet to see it. Hope you enjoy it!**

Weeks had passed since the fight with the Governor — since those remaining at Woodbury had joined them and moved into the prison. New blocks were cleared out and now housed new residents, some from Woodbury and some that had been picked up as time passed by. Everyone seemed to be getting along nicely. Amazing what people can do when they team up and aren't led by a maniac hell bent on dominating everyone. There wasn't a single person that didn't find a way to pitch in to earn their place. People worked the fence to keep walkers along the under control while some worked as cleanup crews, medical care, watched over the children, cooked for the group and more. Hershel pretty much oversaw the farming, but it was Rick that was seen out there nearly from sun up to sun down. At times Carl can be seen helping his father, but let's face it, there's a lot of other things he would rather be doing. Carol spent most of her time doing more 'home making' tasks — cooking, keeping the children busy with story time, etc. Glenn and Maggie helped out with pretty much anything that needed to be helped with. Maggie, however, still found herself helping her father out with the medical care when she could. Her sister, Beth, tried her best to help out with Judith whenever Rick needed her, which nowadays was pretty much all the time. Everyone stayed pretty close. Well, everyone except Michonne. She had taken what had happened to Andrea pretty hard. Not knowing what happened to the Governor — where he went, what he was doing — wasn't sitting well with her. She was determined to find him and put an end to him once and for all. While everyone understood her thoughts behind it, not everyone was on board with her putting herself in danger like that.

They preferred to only leave the prison for supply runs. Runs that usually were groups going out in search of food, medical supplies, fresh clothing, anything that could be useful. However, some runs they end up bringing back way more than they expect. Their numbers have grown quite a bit from runs that resulted in finding survivors. Of course they were careful with who they brought in. To gain entry, hopefuls must first answer three questions that Rick had Hershel put forth to the council. It was agreed upon unanimously. Seeing as how Rick was now more focused on the agriculture of the prison in order to avoid conflict at all cost, Hershel had stepped up and offered to lead a prison council. Carol was on the council, of course, as well as Glenn. Sasha from Woodbury joined as well to help the Woodbury people feel they were represented. It didn't seem as if anyone ever questioned that, but it helped keep things balanced. Daryl was also on the council, but he usually sat back quietly, arms crossed and only speaking up when he really felt the need to. The reason he joined in the first place was always sitting at his side. Skye had been asked by Hershel to join and therefore she felt the need to drag him along. Her reasoning being that he brought new people in just as much as she did and whether he acknowledged it or not, he was Rick's right hand man. With Rick off worrying about the crops, in her eyes that meant it fell to Daryl to step up and make some of the hard decisions. He wasn't thrilled, but he accepted anyway much to his displeasure.

"So, where to now?" Skye walked in sync with Daryl as they headed back to his motorcycle. They had come out to search roadside diner, but unfortunately it had already been cleaned out.

"We could head up the road we passed back a ways. May be something worth searchin' up there," Daryl said, swinging his leg over his bike and grasping the handles. There was a roar of life from the engine as Skye jumped on behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso for security.

Things had been wonderful between them since that night up in the watchtower. They still weren't open about their relationship with the rest of the group and to be honest Skye wasn't even sure the two of them knew what they really were. There had definitely been nights that she had lied in bed wondering. Was she his girlfriend? She really didn't know. It felt like she was, but they had never really said it out loud. The way they kind of hid it around the group also made her wonder. Despite all that, she was very happy. Between Daryl and how things were going with the prison, everything seemed to have just fallen in place.

"You see that?" Daryl yelled back to her.

She looked past him up ahead. A large chain-link fence surrounded what looked to be a rescue site that had been long abandoned. As with most places they came across nowadays, trash was scattered all around the area along with numerous rotting bodies. Using his foot, Daryl kicked out the kickstand, letting Skye get off first before he joined her. They shared a look of caution as growls of the dead grew louder as they approached the fence. Looking in they saw tents, ripped and splattered with blood, lined up in front of what seemed to be a grocery store. Big red letters above the door read 'Big Sp!t' with the dot of the exclamation point being the 'o'. Big Spot could be the jackpot they're looking for. Kneeling down, Daryl grabbed a rock from the ground. Rolling it around in his hand he looked to Skye who gave a reassuring nod. Cocking his arm back, he hurled the rock over the gate to a stack of large wooden boxes in front of a tent in the center. It hit with a loud hollow knock. Feet shuffled and scratched across the pavement as walkers stumbled toward the sound from all corners of the enclosed area. There had to be about fifty of them. Skye bit her lip, disappointed as they stared out at the hoard currently ruling their desired conquest.

"What're we gonna do now?" Skye whispered. "That place must have loads of supplies. It looks like it fell while people were still here. Probably pretty early on."

She could practically see the wheels in his head turning. His eyes darted around in search of a solution to their problem. "There," he said, pointing over to what looked like a hole in the fence down about 20 feet from them. "Maybe we can draw them out somehow. If we can find a car that runs, then maybe—"

"What about a radio?" she offered. "We could bring one back from the prison. I'm sure there's one lying around."

"Worth a shot," Daryl nodded. Placing a hand on her back, he gestured back toward his bike. "Let's get back. Don't need Rick worrying over us being out too long."

"Yeah, he does seem to worry even easier than normal, doesn't he? Is it just me or does he seem like he's not himself?"

They climbed back onto the motorcycle. "Everything with the Governor was rough. Besides, I don't think he ever fully dealt with what happened to Lori. He nearly lost his mind."

"I think for a moment there he did." Skye bit at her cheek and the two rode off back towards the prison, their home.

* * *

"Hi, Skye!" "Hey, Skye!" "How's it goin', Skye?"

Skye smiled brightly at those greeting her on her way down to search for a radio for them to use back at Big Spot. Everyone had been so nice to her and she knew it was because she had helped bring most of them in.

"Is that how it's going to be?"

Skye spun around, caught off guard, but a smile soon returned to her lips as she saw the voice belonged to her brother, Brady. He approached her with widespread arms, but instead of a hug he was met with a playful punch to his arm. "What do you mean 'is that how it's going to be?'."

"Getting' all this love from the newcomers that you forget all about your big brother. Walked right by me."

Skye smirked as they continued down the hallway. "I didn't even see you, Brady."

"My point exactly," he teased.

"Well, my bad. I'm kind of on a mission here."

"Anything I can be of assistance with?"

"I need to find a radio," she replied. "Daryl and I found a potential hot spot."

"So what's the radio for?" Brady looked confused.

"There's about fifty walkers in the enclosed area in front of the store."

"Ah," he nodded, "Well, I may just know where to find one."

Skye stopped and faced him. "Really?! Where?"

Brady scratched the back of his head. "I may or may not have hoarded one when everyone started moving in. I found it when I was clearing out one of the offices."

"So you kept it to yourself?" Skye narrowed accusing eyes on him.

"You know how much I like music while I work out, Sadie," he joked.

"Alright well then I'm going to use it."

"Great. So what exactly are you going to do with it?"

"We had talked about using it to draw the walkers out. If we can hook it up to some power then it should clear the area pretty quickly."

"Alright well what do you need Daryl for? I would love to go out and help you rig it up."

Skye shook her head. "No can do, Brady."

"What? Why?" He looked offended.

Skye rolled her eyes and continued walking. "You know why."

"Still, huh?"

Skye merely nodded.

"When is he going to trust me? You are my sister, after all."

"Daryl just needs some time. I mean, you were with the Governor and almost let him kill me."

Brady understood perfectly well, but it still bothered him he couldn't be trusted alone with anyone out on a run. "You know I wasn't in my right mind. I told you what the Governor did to—"

"I know, Brady. Just be patient." Then an idea struck. "I know. How about you come with us when we go back to search the place? I think I can talk them into letting you come along. May help prove yourself to them."

Hesitantly, Brady nodded. "Yeah, alright. I'm in. Now let's go find that radio. I am going to get it back, right?"

Skye laughed. It was more than nice having her brother back. Hopefully, her plan will work and the others will see how he would be a great addition to the group.

* * *

Brady's radio had worked like a dream. Skye and Daryl had gone back out to Big Spot. All the walkers were still stumbling around, bumping into anything and everything within the fence. Daryl found a couple car batteries with some juice still in them and they had trekked a little ways away before hooking the radio up to the batteries. Flipping the switch, they had walked out and around to get back to his motorcycle and from the distance watched as walkers began to push through the opening in the fence, leaving some of their skin behind on the chain-link. By the time they came back out to search the place, it should be cleared.

And today was the day. They would be heading back with a search group to get any and all supplies that they could. Daryl headed towards the grill for something to eat before heading out and he was met with numerous greetings. He looked around, surprised by how many people felt the need to say hello. Turning his attention to the grill where Carol stood readying servings for anyone who wanted some of the deer that he had brought back the day before.

"Smells good," he said, grabbing a bowl of meat to feast on.

"Just so you know, I liked you first," she smirked. While she hadn't made any more attempts at removing Skye from the group, she still wasn't giving up. Daryl had a talk with her after the Woodbury group had moved in. He had avoided being too direct, but tried to give the impression she needed to back off a bit and that they were just friends. Apparently, she had received the message, but wasn't happy with his decision.

"Stop," he said, popping some deer meat into his mouth. "You know, Rick brought in a lot of them, too."

"Not recently," she eyed him. "Give the strangers sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're gonna have to learn to live with the love."

"Skye helped. It wasn't all me."

"I know, but do you think that she would've been able to do that if you weren't there with her?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Yeah, I do. Besides," he threw in more meat, "Two is better than one."

"Yeah, I guess it is," she paused, "I need you to see something. Patrick, can you take over?"

"Yes, ma'am," a young boy that came in a couple weeks before hurried over to help. Carol handed him the tongs and began to lead Daryl off. "Uh, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl stopped abruptly, staring back at the boy.

"I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir. And I would be honored to shake your hand."

Daryl looked to Carol, who stood smiling at the boy. Looking down to the boy's outstretched hand, Daryl sucked the juice from the deer meat from his fingers before slapping his hand down into Patrick's. Carol tried to hide her smile and headed off with Daryl close behind her. Before long they were in the courtyard, looking out over the prison yard.

"It's about today," she stated, "I don't know if we're going to be able to spare a lot of people for the run."

"The place is good to go. We're gonna move on it." There was no way they could risk not searching this place. It had way too much potential.

"Yeah," she said with sarcasm. "Thing is, we had a pretty big buildup overnight."

Staring out at the fence surrounding the perimeter, they saw large groups of walkers pushing against the fence. The fence duty was working on thinning them out, but it was going to take awhile.

"Dozens more towards tower three. It's getting as bad as last month. They don't spread out anymore." Carol crossed her arms over her chest, watching as those below shoved their weapons into the heads of the walkers, dropping a few at a time.

"With more of us sitting here, we're drawing more of them out. You get enough of those damn fence-clingers they start to herd up."

"Pushing against the fences again. It's manageable, but unless we get head of it, not for long." Avoiding his gaze and staring straight ahead, she added, "I think you should stay here."

"What? Not a chance," he responded, not believing he heard her correctly.

"We may need some help here. They have enough people going. It's a simple run, right? They don't need you for that," she sighed, "If the fence falls, we're going to need some muscle. If you go and also Glenn, Sasha, Tyreese, Skye, Brady —"

"Wait, hold up. Brady's going?"

Carol shook her head like it was common knowledge. "Skye asked Rick if he could go. Something about proving he could benefit the group —"

Daryl took a deep breath. "He better not screw anything up."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Sorry, Pookie."

Daryl scoffed and left to gather the group, calling over his shoulder, "I'm still going."

When he reached the truck to be loaded, he found Skye talking with her brother as they loaded up some weapons. She spotted him coming and said something to her brother before he headed off in the other direction.

"Did I scare him off or what?" Daryl asked her.

"No, I asked him to go fetch some more hand held weapons. You know, just in case we need a quieter approach," she answered, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"Uh huh." He leaned on the truck, eyeing her.

She tried to avoid his eyes, but she couldn't take it. "What is it, Daryl?"

"Brady, Skye? You know I don't trust him. So you go on and invite him on a run?"

"He's my brother, Daryl. I trust him. That should mean something. Plus, how do you expect him to gain your trust if you don't give him the chance to earn it?"

Daryl heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "You stay by my side at all times."

"I can handle myself, Daryl. I feel like you should know that by now. I'm a survivor," she smirked, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips.

"Well then how about you stay here? They need some help on the fence," he suggested, grabbing a couple gas cans and throwing them into the bed of the truck.

"Give it up, Daryl. I'm going. I helped find the place, remember? I want to see what's inside."

Stepping up to her, he looked down into her eyes. "Fine. Just know I don't like this."

"Noted," she smiled.

They stepped away from one another as Beth walked by as her boyfriend, Zach, hollered after her, "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

"Nope," Beth grinned, continuing on her way.

Daryl grabbed up the last box and walked to the back of the truck saying, "It's like a damn romance novel." As he walked back to Skye he noticed something past her. Nodding up ahead, he said, "Look who wants to join."

Skye turned to see the army medic, Bob, talking with Sasha, trying to convince her to let him come along. They had just brought him in nearly a week ago. Looking back to Daryl, she said, "I don't know, Daryl. We found him alone. Sure, he answered the questions fine, but there was no one there to confirm his answers. It may not be such a good idea that he comes along until we know more about him."

Daryl bit his lip, nodding. The two headed for his bike and as they passed Bob and Sasha, Daryl said to them, "We ain't gonna do it unless it's easy."

They got settled and ready to go, starting his bike. Skye looked back to see Bob getting into the SUV with Sasha, Glenn, Tyreese and Brady. A bad feeling crept up in the pit of her stomach. None of them liked going on runs with someone they didn't know and trust. Now she knew how Daryl felt about Brady. The feeling soon got replaced by one of excitement as they pulled through the first gate into the yard, spotting Rick and Carl talking with Michonne. She had been gone for what seemed like ages this time.

Daryl stopped the bike just beside her as he and Skye smiled up at her. "Well," he said, "Look who's back."

"Didn't find him," Michonne greeted.

There was a pause before Daryl said, "Glad to see you're in one piece."

Skye knew Daryl wanted revenge on the Governor for what he did to Merle, but she also knew he didn't want Michonne to die out there on her pursuit.

"I'm thinking of looking over near Macon," she announced and was met with concerned and disapproving stares. "It's worth a shot."

"But that's so far away," Skye said, worried that this may be the trip Michonne didn't return from.

"70 miles of walkers," Daryl pointed out. "You might run into a few unneighborly types. Is it?" Michonne grew quiet, considering their argument. Turning his attention to Rick, Daryl said, "We're gonna go check out the Big Spot. The one we told you about."

"Yeah, I got to go check out the snares. I don't want to lose whatever we catch to the walkers," Rick looked to his feet, avoiding the trip at all costs.

"I'll go," Michonne offered, starting back towards the SUV.

"But you just got here," Carl fought.

"And I'll be back," she smiled, joining the others.

Revving the engine, Daryl gestured toward the gate to Rick, ready to head out. Rick hustled ahead of them and cleared the way for them to get on their way.

Arriving at their destination, they parked the vehicles and gathered at the opening in the fence. Daryl said, "Army put these fences up. Made it a place for the people to go," turning to the group he added, "Last week when we spotted this place, there was a bunch of walkers behind this chain-link, keeping people out like a bunch of guard dogs."

"So they all just left?" Bob asked.

"Give a listen," Sasha directed.

In the distance, the radio could still be heard blaring, attracting walkers from all around. Skye smiled at them in triumph. "Hooked a radio up to a couple car batteries three days ago. Did the trick, I'd say."

"You drew them out," Michonne concluded, impressed.

Brady shot her a playful glare. There was no way in hell he was getting his radio back.

"Alright," Daryl addressed the group, "Let's make a sweep. Make sure it's safe. Grab what you can. We'll come back tomorrow with more people."

Bob followed closely behind Daryl as they all entered the enclosed rescue zone. As Skye slipped in she grimaced at the sight of torn flesh and blood on the fence where the walkers had pushed their way through. Disgusting. Jerking her head, she signaled for Brady to stay close to her as they slowly inspected the area. Her guns were in their holsters on her thighs while she walked with her fingers wrapped around the handle of a machete, ready to strike if needed. Everyone else walked around the outside so Skye decided to check the tent at the center of the camp. Instantly regretting that decision, she nearly had to cover her mouth. The awful aroma of rotting flesh hit her hard as they entered, finding numerous bodies lying around the tent. Some in military apparel and some that seemed to be civilians. They had been here so long that there was barely any flesh left. So far the coast was clear. Coming out the other side she found Daryl sitting on the window sill at the front of the store with Zach leaning against the wall. She and Brady joined them, arriving just in time to hear Zach say, "Okay, I think I got it."

"Got what?" Michonne asked, stepping up behind him.

"Oh, I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn," he took a seat next to Daryl.

Skye chuckled, "This is something I have to hear."

"He's been trying to guess for, like, six weeks." Daryl shook his head.

Skye couldn't believe this was the first she had heard of it. Daryl hadn't said anything to her. Come to think of it, he never really talked much about his life before the outbreak to her besides some small stories about life with Merle.

"Yeah, I'm pacing myself. One shot a day," Zach's gaze fell to the pavement, working through it in his head, considering all possibilities.

"Alright, shoot," Daryl humored him.

Zach grinned. Taking a breath he said, "Well, the way you are at the prison, you being on the council, you're able to track, you're helping people, but you're still being kind of uh…" he paused, "Surly."

Daryl shot him a look and Skye did everything she could to keep from busting out in laughter.

"Big swing here," Zach said, looking to Daryl as he guessed, "Homicide cop."

That did it. Skye let out a laugh accompanied by Michonne. Daryl's eyes went from Michonne to Skye. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Michonne attempted to sound serious as she leaned against the wall, "It makes perfect sense."

"Actually the man's right," Daryl made Zach's face grow serious, not being able to believe he got it right. However, Skye knew Daryl too well to fall for it though. "Undercover."

"Come on, really?" Zach asked incredulously.

"Yep," Daryl nodded. "I mean, I don't like to talk about it 'cause it's a lot of heavy shit, ya know?"

Skye and Daryl shared an amused look, but Zach still didn't know what to believe. "Dude, come on, really?" The look on Daryl's face said it all. "Hmm. I'll just keep guessing, I guess."

Daryl cleared his throat. "Yeah, you keep doing that."

"Mmhmm."

Movement on the other side of the window got Skye and Brady's attention. "Incoming," Brady said, pulling out his knife.

The others approached and Daryl pushed up from the window sill, reaching for a crowbar from Glenn.

"Gonna do this, detective," Michonne asked.

"Let's do it," Daryl responded, thrusting the crowbar into the automatic doors, prying them open.

While they cleared out the few walkers that came to the door, Skye took a moment to talk with Brady. "Going in there please try to stick with me. I don't want to give Daryl any reason to be mad at you, okay?"

"Not a problem, lil sis. Just load up the bag and leave, right? Easy peesy."

A half smile spread on her lips as the two headed to the doors with the others.

"Alright, we go in, stay in formation for the sweep," Sasha commanded. "After that, you all know what you're supposed to look for. Any questions?"

Once inside and the sweep was done, proving the all clear, Skye and Brady grabbed a cart and began searching the aisles for any useable goods.

"Hey, Sadie," Brady called from behind her.

"Hmm?" Skye's eyes were busy scanning the shelves.

"Do you remember when you were little and we would go to the grocery store, how much fun we had with the carts?"

A small smile appeared as Skye reminisced. Brady used to let her stand on the back of the cart while he pushed it as fast as he could. She always felt like she was flying. Only her big brother could make shopping for groceries fun. "I remember. Mom used to always ask what took us so long to find simple things like toilet paper."

"'As if you guys don't know where it is. I've sent you to get toilet paper every time we come to the store'," Brady imitated their mother.

They both laughed and Skye through the whole stock of toothbrushes and toothpaste into the cart, slipping a couple into her jacket pocket for her and Daryl. As they continued down the aisle, Brady pushed the cart a little harder and jumped onto the back, flying by Skye a few feet before jumping back off.

"Gotta miss the good 'ole days," he said, leaning back onto the cart handle, pushing at a normal speed.

There was a loud crash as bottles smashed to the floor somewhere behind them. Both spun around searching for sign of where it had come from. "What happened?" they heard Glenn yell and Zach yelled back in response.

"Everyone's all right. We're over in wine and beer."

Just as Brady and Skye rounded the corner to wine and beer, Skye let out a startled yelp as the ceiling gave and a walker fell through, hanging above them by his innards that had caught on some beams.

"It sounds like there's more up there!" Skye stated, looking up through the hole in the ceiling.

"Yeah, uh, we should probably be going now," Glenn suggested.

"Bob's still stuck," Daryl growled over to Tyreese and Zach, "Get him outta there."

With her hand back on the handle of her katana, Michonne said, "We'll get the others."

Skye nodded in agreement and she turned to Brady, who was stuffing as much of their loot into his bag. There was another crash and Skye spun back around, seeing another walker lying on the floor in front of her. Yet another fell, knocking the hanging one free and everyone jumped into action as more and more rained down with sickening thuds.

"Brady! Go!" Skye drew her guns from her holsters and pushed Brady ahead of her and the two took off in search of Sasha. Looking back over her shoulder Skye fired a shot into the head of a walker chasing right behind them. Facing front, she slid to a halt as a walker fell from the ceiling right in front of her, separating her from Brady. Looking to her right, she dashed down a side aisle. Firing at a walker up ahead at the end of the aisle, she jumped over its dead body and was out in the open again. To her right, she saw Daryl firing at walkers from atop a mountain of boxes of wine and beer. "Daryl!" she yelled, but before she could run to help him, she was grabbed from her left. Jaws chomped after her arm as she used all her strength to keep the walker's mouth out of reach.

Daryl's eyes looked to where he had heard Skye call his name only to find her struggling against a walker as it knocked her to the ground. His heart sank. "Skye!" There was no way he could get down through the walkers surrounding him. He fired at them as fast as he could, desperately trying to clear a path, but once he killed one another appeared.

Skye felt her arms getting ready to give out. Looking around for something to use against her attacker she began to lose all hope. Rotting teeth bit furiously at her, trying harder and harder to get a taste of her. "No!" she whimpered as the teeth were three inches away. Two… one… then they stopped. Blood dripped from the end of a machete now protruding from the walker's forehead. The machete disappeared and she let the walker fall to the floor at her side.

"Brady," she breathed as he helped her to her feet.

"Let's go," he said, pulling her behind him towards where Daryl was still fighting off walkers. The two fired on Daryl's attackers, clearing the way for him to get down. Bits of ceiling fell down accompanied by a loud crunch. The three looked to the hole above to where an army plane was threatening to fall through

"We have to move!" Brady yelled, pulling on Skye. She reached a hand out, grabbing onto Daryl and pulling him down.

"We have to get Bob! Cover me!" Daryl yelled.

Skye and Brady fired on the oncoming walkers while Zach lifted the wine shelving that Bob was trapped under. Daryl pulled Bob free and pushed him ahead towards where the others were waiting. "Let's go now! Go!"

Brady wrapped Bob's arm around his shoulders, helping get weight off his foot to get him to safety quickly. Daryl rushed to Skye's side, ready to get the hell out of there, but every single one of them was stopped by the sound of screams coming from behind them. Every one of them watched in horror as Zach had a walker latched onto his leg, chewing on his ankle.

"Zach!" Glenn yelled as the boy fell to the floor, the walker moving on to rip out his throat. Skye's hand flew to her mouth as Zach continued to scream as blood flowing from the hole in his throat to his mouth.

With his one free hand, Brady drew his gun, firing one shot into Zach's head, putting him out of his misery. More of the ceiling began to fall around them, making them rush yet again towards the light shining through the storefront door. Skye and Daryl brought up the end of the group and just as they reached the exit, the ceiling finally gave and the plane crashed down, sending dust and debris flying through the air.

After getting back to their vehicles and packing up everything they were able to salvage, the ride home was a silent one. You always go out knowing there is the possibility for death, but it never something you get used to. Skye had only spoken with Zach a few times so she didn't know him too well, but she hated that they would have to break this news to Beth. It was Daryl who offered to take on this task, surprising Skye.

While he headed off to Beth's room Skye took the long way back to their own room. Arms crossed across her abdomen, she bit at her lip thinking back to all those they had lost — back in Atlanta, the farm, during the fight with the Governor — and to those she lost before she had even met them. What she wouldn't give to see her baby sister again. Passing by Michonne's room she saw her sitting on her bed, map in her lap. Skye stepped up to the door.

"So you're really going back out there?"

Michonne's eyes jerked up to meet Skye. "I have to."

"No," Skye shook her head, "You don't."

"Skye—"

"No, Michonne. I get why you want to go after him, but what about the people here? There are people here that care about you and it would kill us if you didn't come back."

Michonne sat in silence, staring down at the big letters on the map that read 'Macon'.

"Don't do that to us. This pursuit of the Governor isn't worth it, is it?"

Michonne met Skye's gaze, but still she said nothing.

"Alright, well, goodnight," Skye waved and left for her room.

Swinging her backpack from her shoulders, she tossed it into the corner of their room. She and Daryl had gone off in search of a room with a little more privacy and wound up in the basement. The room they ended up taking was perfect. It wasn't on a cellblock so they weren't going to have to worry about being in the middle of the bustle of the rest of the group. Both liked some peace and quiet in the morning. Reaching into her jacket she pulled out the toothbrushes she had grabbed for the two of them. Removing them from the package, she sat them with the rest of their bathroom necessities. Even though all the rooms had a sink and toilet, they all still had to share the community showers.

With both hands on the sink, Skye leaned forward and closed her eyes. What a rough day. She was still rattled from being pinned down by that walker. Deep breath.

"You alright?"

Skye turned to lean back on the sink as she stared back at Daryl where he leaned against the doorframe. "Fine. Just need to get some rest, I think."

"Mhmm," he nodded, unconvinced. "Best get to it then." He entered their room, sitting on their bed and kicking off his boots.

Moving to sit next to him, she asked, "How'd it go with Beth?"

He sighed. "Not sure really. She didn't shed a tear. Seems to me like she's hardened herself."

"Can you blame her?"

"No, the thing is, I get it, ya know?" He faced her and Skye studied his face. "This should've been an easy run. In and out. I thought I had it planned —"

"Daryl, stop. There was no way we could've known walkers would fall through the ceiling. That was a freak accident."

"Still," he paused, "Zach almost wasn't the only one we lost."

"But we didn't lose anyone else."

"I know, it's just — I felt so helpless when I saw that walker on top of you. I just want to let you know that Brady did what I couldn't. He's gained a little bit of my trust."

Her mouth twitched up into a smile and she grabbed his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

Daryl pressed his lips to her head in a kiss and the two turned in for the night, hoping to fight back nightmares of the day's events.

 **Please leave me some reviews! It's my writing fuel. :P 3**


	2. Sick

The grass was cool — Cool to the touch as Skye laid looking up at the clouds gliding by ever so slowly. The dew that clung to the blades mixed with the breeze and brought goosebumps to her skin, sending shivers coursing through her. It was like the perfect morning.

"Storm's comin'."

Skye looked to Daryl, who laid by her side, his arms behind his head. "What makes you say that?"

"There's just always one eventually," he cocked a smile, looking back to the sky. "It's inevitable."

"Suppose so," she frowned, closing her eyes to try to focus on the refreshing air and relaxing sounds of nature. Not a sound of walkers to be heard. About time.

"I just think we deserve to enjoy a nice day, don't you—" Skye opened her eyes and let out a scream as she stared into the snarling, decaying flesh before her. Her stomach clenched as he worst nightmare had come true. Daryl was dead. She kicked at him as he rolled on top of her, snapping towards her neck. Tears began to flow as she screamed, fighting with everything she had. Nothing seemed to have any effect.

"Daryl, please! No!"

His blue of his eyes was replaced by a white gloss. Daryl wasn't there. One slip and that was it. Skye's arm gave way and Daryl's teeth drove straight for her throat, biting down hard and —

Skye jolted upright in bed with a gasp, drenched in a cold sweat. Daryl was up at her side in an instant.

"What? What is it, Skye?" he asked, checking her over for any sign of injury.

Swallowing hard, she brushed her dampened hair back from her face. "It was — It was just a dream. Just a dream."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder for comfort, he said, "Well, here. Lay back down. It's alright."

Instead, Skye pushed up from bed. "No, I, uh — I think I'm just going to get dressed and stay up for the day."

"You sure?" He watched her, concerned.

Faking a smile, she nodded while avoiding looking him in the face. "Yeah, I'll just go see if anyone needs any help with anything. Maybe Rick could use a hand in the field."

Daryl sensed something was up, but still he just nodded and watched her leave.

Skye felt bad for having to get out of there, but she just couldn't let herself go back to sleep. She wanted to do anything to keep that nightmare out of her mind. Somehow she felt that was going to be a hard task to accomplish. Not many people were up yet, but after she brushed her teeth and splashed some cold water onto her face, she went off towards the field in search of Rick. She knew for a fact he would be there. He was very diligent about his farming lately. As she made her way down the halls, Daryl's face from her dream, his teeth chomping down on her, flashed through her mind. Just think of something else, she thought. Soon the face disappeared, but was replaced by the sound of gunshots. Her head jerked up, listening to judge if they were real or not. They sounded again. Instantly she ran towards the shots. They were in the prison.

Following the gunshots and screams, she found herself running up on D Block. Walkers attacked the residents of the block. There had to be at least ten of them. Jumping into action she drew her guns and began firing on the dead. Children's screams sounded from the upper level. Climbing the stairs as quickly as she could against the others coming down, she got to the top and saw a walker lumbering after one of the small boys. Blowing it's head off, she pulled the boy to his feet.

"Down the stairs and out the door! Go!"

The boy did as she said and she moved on, firing into another walker who crouched munching on one of the elderly members. The old man was dead, but still she fired one shot into his skull to prevent the turn.

"Help! Help me!"

Skye turned towards scream to see Karen fighting to get out of a walker's grasp. Dashing to her aid, Skye pulled her knife out, stabbing it deep into the walker's brain.

"Thank you," Karen said, trying to catch her breath. "I'm going to get the children into a cell for protection."

"Good plan," Skye agreed as Karen took off towards the stairs.

"Daryl!"

Skye leaned over the rail once she heard the familiar sound of Rick's bellowing voice. He, Daryl, Brady and Glenn had arrived and began to clear out the bottom level while Carol helped Karen get kids to safety.

Low growls flowed from the cell next to her and as the sheet curtain billowed she saw feet shuffling for the door. Taking a step back, she waited for it to emerge. Once it did, she plunged her knife into it's head. After that she began carefully checking each cell to prevent any unwanted surprises. It wasn't long before Glenn had joined her, making his way down from the other end. Daryl was next to ascend to the top, but as Skye and Glenn were meeting in the middle, Glenn pushed a curtain back and a walker jumped out, taking him by surprise and pinning him against the wall.

"Glenn!" Skye yelled.

Daryl drew his crossbow. "Get down!"

Glenn ducked and Daryl sent a bolt straight into Glenn's attacker's temple. Rick ran up the stairs to help just as the walker fell limp on the floor. Glenn fell to a crouch next to it and Rick reached out a hand to help him back to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Rick asked him and Glenn gave a quick nod. "How about you?"

"I'm good." Skye holstered her weapons. "Brady?"

"He's out helping with those who survived the attack," Rick informed, pulling back the curtain to the cell.

Skye looked to Daryl but his eyes were aimed down at the lifeless body below them. "Oh, it's Patrick."

"Patrick? As in Carl's friend?" Skye questioned, her eyes bouncing between Daryl and Rick.

Rick knelt, examining Patrick's body.

"That's all of them," Daryl stated.

Hands on the cold metal of the railing, Skye took in the scene below. Bodies were strewn all about D Block. Men, women, children… All people they had brought in to get them away from the cruel world outside the fence. "How could this happen?" she whispered to no one in particular.

From behind her, Daryl said, "I got it," as he stepped into the cell, shooting a bolt into the skull of Patrick's latest victim.

Glenn descended to help with the other's below and as Skye turned to follow she found Rick staring off into nothingness. "Rick? Are _you_ okay?"

He just stood there as if fighting his own demons in his own head.

Placing her hand on his arm, she stepped in front of him in attempt to bring him back to the present. "Rick, we've got to take care of the bodies before they turn."

His frantic eyes flew to the calming contrast of hers. Nodding, he turned, pulled out his knife and went into the next cell, returning with blood and gore dripping from the blade. Sweat glistened from his brow as he moved on. Skye looked back to Daryl, both sharing concern for their once strong leader, wondering if he could ever get that back. Both stayed close behind him and at the end of the balcony another walker lurched forward, stopped only by the locked cell door. Grabbing onto its shirt, Rick held him while he ended its life. The body thumped to the floor.

"Get the doc," Rick called, unlocking the door. Hershel, Bob and Dr. S joined them as they were examining the body closer. Skye stayed back out of the way, curious as to why Rick was so interested in the body, but once she saw the state of the walker's face, she knew why. It looked as if his eyes had blood erupt from the sockets and mouth as streaks went down his face and chin.

"No bites. No wounds," Rick informed the group, "I think he just died."

"Horribly, too," Dr. S confirmed, "Pleurisy aspiration."

"Choked to death on his own blood," Hershel shook his head out of pity. "Caused those trails down his face."

"I saw them before," Rick looked to each of them, "One the walker outside the fences."

"Saw them on Patrick, too," Daryl added.

Skye stepped forward. "But what would've caused that? Doesn't sound like something that just happens. Especially not to so many."

"They're from internal lung pressure building up —" Dr. S explained, "Like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose and throat are the top."

Skye felt like she would be sick.

"It's a sickness from the walkers?" asked Bob.

"No, it was around before the walkers. Could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive strain of the flu."

"Someone locked him in just in time," said Hershel.

"No, man," Daryl corrected, "Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in. Hell, he was just eating barbecue yesterday. How could someone die in a day just from a cold?"

"I had a sick pig, it died quick," Rick began to connect some dots, "Saw a sick boar in the woods."

"You think they're connected?" Skye asked.

"Pigs and birds. That's how these things spread in the past." Hershel looked to Rick, "We need to do something about those hogs."

"Maybe we got lucky. Maybe these two cases are it."

"We can' be sure of that, Dr. S. We can't risk more of this spreading," Skye reasoned with him.

"Haven't seen anybody be lucky in a long time," Bob sided with Skye. "Bugs like to run through close quarters. Doesn't get any closer than this."

"All of us in here, we've all been exposed." Hershel's statement hit them all hard as they realized what that could mean.

Skye didn't know what to think. All those children that were in here when it went down was her first thought. What if they got it? That would be even more tragic than all of this. She knew that this perfect existence they were all living in here in the prison would be tested someday. Once you get comfortable in this world, something comes along and ruins it.

"I have to go find Brady. Let him know," she announced to the others.

"Alright, but hurry back. We're going to have a council meeting to discuss it with the others. Meet us there in ten," Hershel ordered.

With an agreeable nod, she was off in search of her brother. She found him just down the hallway a ways, helping one of the children calm down. He was on one knee with the girl's face in his hands.

"Just breathe, okay. Everything is going to be alright. It's over now," he calmed the little girl. Brushing her hair back from her face, he wiped her tears with his thumb. "Now go on with the others. They'll get you set up in a new room with some of the other kids."

Skye crossed her arms and watched as the girl wrapped Brady in an appreciative hug before heading off as he said. Rising to his feet, he approached his sister. "Her mother was one that got bit. She was all she had. I'm going to watch over her, make sure she's alright."

Nodding in understanding, Skye hugged her big brother, hoping it would make the news she brought a little less alarming. Sliding her hands into her pockets, she said, "Brady, I wanted to let you know what we found up on the balcony."

"You mean, up in someone's cell?"

"I mean, with the walkers," she swallowed hard, "It seems that Patrick had been sick and died sometime maybe last night. He had blood all over his face from what Dr. S said was pressure building up in his lungs."

"So he died from some kind of condition?" Brady looked confused.

"He died from a sickness, but he wasn't alone. Others had the same blood streaked down their face and Rick said he saw one outside the fence. And there's one other thing —" Skye paused, "We've all been exposed."

Brady looked like he had been slapped in the face. "So we may — that little girl might —"

"We don't know for sure, but we need to take precautions."

"Like what?" he asked.

"I don't know yet. I'm heading to a council meeting now. I'll keep you informed," she gave him one last hug before turning to leave adding, "Be on the lookout for anything, Brady."

"Patrick was fine yesterday and he died overnight," Carol addressed the other members of the council. "Two people died that quick? We'll have to separate everyone that's been exposed."

"That's everyone in that cell block. That's all of us. Maybe more."

"Daryl's right," Skye wrung her hands under the table. "What about people they came into contact with outside of the cellblock?"

"We know this sickness can be lethal. We don't know how easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?" Hershel asked.

"We can't just wait and see. There's children," Carol uttered. "It isn't just an illness. People die, they become a threat."

Hershel nodded. "We need a place for them to go. They can't stay in D. We can't risk going in there to clean it up."

"We can use cell block A," Carol offered.

"Death row? Not sure that's an upgrade," Glenn asked, unsure.

"It's clean. That's an upgrade," Daryl said and to Hershel asked, "Think that'll work for Dr. S?"

"I'll help Caleb get it set up," Hershel answered, ending the subject.

"And what about those we know are sick?" Skye asked. "Where will we put them?"

Everyone stopped when they heard a woman coughing from the other side of the door. The screeching of chairs sliding on the cement filled the room as they all jumped up to see who it was. Carol was the first through the door.

"You sure?" she called. "You don't sound so good."

It was Karen. Tyreese was with her with a protective around around her shoulders. "I'm just taking her back to my cell so she can rest."

"Tyreese," Hershel stood a little straighter with his hands on his hips, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" Karen looked to Tyreese. "What's going on now?"

Everyone on the council looked to each other, unsure of how to tell her. Glenn was the one to speak up. "We think it's the flu or something. That's how Patrick died."

Hershel approached them. "Judith was in that cell block. She's vulnerable. Anyone who may be sick or even exposed should stay away."

"It killed Patrick?" Karen looked worried, almost unbelieving.

"She's gonna be okay," Tyreese said, almost sounding as if he was more trying to convince himself. "Now that we know what Patrick died from we can treat it, right?"

Karen began to shift nervously in place.

"Don't panic," Hershel urged, "We're going to figure this out. But we should keep you separated in the meantime. We'll have Caleb take a look at you. I'll see what we have in the way of medications."

"David, from the Decatur group, he's been coughing, too," Karen crossed her arms, trying to remain calm and be of help to the council.

"I'll get him," Glenn volunteered. "There's some empty clean cells in the tombs, right?" Sasha gave him a nod and he hurried off to find David.

Sasha went with her brother to help get Karen settled in, leaving Skye, Daryl and Carol looking to Hershel for the next step. "Have to call another meeting later," he stated.

"Alright," Daryl nodded. "I'll get to burying the dead ones."

"You wear gloves and a mask." Hershel gave him a look showing he wasn't budging on the subject. Under no circumstances was anyone to be near that cell or the bodies without the proper protection.

"I'm going to go fill Brady in. He's looking after a little girl whose mom died earlier." Skye moved to leave, but Daryl stopped her.

"Hold up. I'll walk with you." As they passed by Carol, he stopped. She was perched against the wall, clearly deep in thought. "You alright?"

Snapping out of it, she replied, "I'm worried about Lizzie and Mica. They were around Patrick."

"We all were. Karen and David are gonna be separated till they feel better."

"You're right. Are you okay?"

Daryl looked back over his shoulder to Skye, who waited patiently staring at the floor. He nodded awkwardly trying to hide his concern caused by the event with Skye that morning.

Walking down the hall, neither one said a word. Daryl kept stealing glances at Skye, hoping he wouldn't have to bring it up, that she would bring it up herself. They drew closer and closer to where Brady would be and still she had yet to say a single word.

"Skye?"

"Hmm?" She stared ahead.

"Dammit, stop." Daryl jumped in front of her and her eyes dropped to the floor. "Why won't you look at me?"

Taking a deep breath she brought her eyes up to meet his. They were so full of concern, and she knew he didn't want to talk about the outbreak.

"Talk to me. Did I do somethin' to piss you off?"

"No, Daryl. It's— I don't know what to say. How to explain—"

"It's about your nightmare you had this morning, isn't it? You've been actin' weird ever since."

Skye bit her lip, finally giving in and nodding to confirm his suspicions.

"Tell me about it," Daryl urged. He wanted to be there to help her, but how could he if she shut him out.

"You and I, uh — You and I were laying outside in the grass just talking about how perfect of a day it was, ya know? I closed my eyes for a moment, but when I opened them you were dead, a walker."

Daryl scrunched his brow, listening carefully as she went on.

"You pinned me down and as you started to bite on my neck, I woke up," she shrugged.

"Look, it was just a dream. Just a —"

"No, Daryl. You don't get it," she shook her head, "That 'perfect day'? That's like what we had here. Everything was going so well. Then before ya know it, all my worst fears are realized. This perfect place is falling apart. Decaying. It's just that I always knew we would never be able to escape the darkness of this new world. The moment we let our guard down, something jumps out wanting to destroy us."

Daryl pulled her into a hug. "Everything's gonna work out. This is just one of those obstacles we have to work through. It'll pass."

Later that evening once they were done with their other duties, Skye and Daryl had met with Rick to discuss a plan regarding the outer fence. While Daryl had been burying the dead, the weight of the walkers on the fence was overwhelming, threatening to make the fence collapse. After an executing Rick's plan of sacrificing the piglets to distract the walkers, they were able to get some braces in to strengthen the fence. However, that is only a temporary fix. They needed something more permanent. Their planning was cut short by Tyreese bursting in, sweat dripping from his face and eyes wide from a mix of anger and fear. Now they stood outside of the Tombs, staring down at the charred corpses of who used to be David and Karen. The sight was one that would linger with their bodies still smoking, but the smell… oh God, the smell… Skye was never going to be able to forget it.

"You found them like this?" Rick asked from where he stood behind Tyreese.

Slowly, Tyreese turned towards Rick. "I came to see Karen… saw the blood on the floor… and then I smelled them." He seemed out of it, but who could blame him. Skye couldn't even begin to understand how he must be feeling. "Somebody dragged them out here," he bellowed, "And set them on fire. They killed them and set 'em on fire!"

Tyreese spun on Rick, getting up in his face, eye blazing. Daryl leapt forward, ready to pounce on Tyreese if he tried anything on Rick. "You're a cop. You find out who did this and you bring 'em to me. You understand? You bring 'em to me!" Tyreese beat on his own chest.

"We'll find out who —" Daryl reached for Tyreese, but Tyreese shoved him back.

Skye's heart was beating in her chest. Rick was remaining calm, but Tyreese looked like he needed someone to blame. His anger was boiling over and she had a feeling he wouldn't hesitate to lash out.

"I need to say it again?" Tyreese got up in Rick's face once more.

Calmly, Rick raised his hands up, trying to calm Tyreese. "No. No. I know what you're feeling. I've been there. You saw me there. It's dangerous."

"Karen didn't deserve this!" Tyreese interrupted.

"No," Rick agreed.

"David didn't deserve it."

"You're right, Tyreese. We —" Skye started, but Tyreese cocked his head toward her yelling, "Nobody does!"

Again, Daryl grabbed onto Tyreese's arm. "Alright, man, let's—"

Tyreese whipped around, pushing Daryl back against the prison bars, pinning him there. Rick and Skye started forward to help, but Daryl held up his hands, telling them to leave it be. Meanwhile, Carol hung back with her hand covering her mouth, watching it all unfold.

"Man, I ain't going nowhere till I find out who did this!"

With Tyreese snarling into his face, Daryl softly said, "We're on the same side, man."

"Okay, look," Rick started, "I know what you're going through. We've all lost someone. We know what you're going through right now, but you've got to calm down."

Tyreese released Daryl, but shoved Rick backward, yelling at him, all the muscles in his neck and back straining in his anger. "You need to step the hell back!"

Skye saw Rick fighting to keep calm and knew it was becoming harder and harder by the second. "Tyreese, don't. Just take a moment to think."

"She wouldn't want you like this," Rick said, pushing Tyreese over the edge and receiving the full force of Tyreese's anger as his fist collided with his face, knocking him down.

Carol and Skye both screamed in protest as Tyreese landed another blow. Daryl jumped onto Tyreese's back, wrapping his arms around him as he tried his hardest to restrain him. Tyreese grunted as he struggled against Daryl. "That's enough!" Daryl commanded.

Wiping blood from his lip, Rick got to his feet, swinging out and delivering a right hook to Tyreese, sending him from Daryl's arms to the ground. Kicking him onto his back, Rick grabbed a handful of his shirt and started pummeling him, taking all his pent up frustration out on Tyreese.

"Rick!" Daryl called.

Skye couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was as if everything Rick had tried to bury deep inside had rose to the surface. Blood splattered with each blow, bones crunched… "Daryl, you have to stop him!"

"Rick, stop," Daryl grabbed onto Rick's arms, but he was just shook off with Rick screaming back at him.

"Get off of me!"

Skye rushed forward despite Daryl's protest. Dropping to her knees she did her best to get into Rick's view. "Rick! You're going to kill him! Stop!"

Rick's fist pulled back, ready to strike again only this time it froze. As he took in the sight of the man below him, his eyes changed from full of rage to fear. His fist lowered and began to shake. Skye linked her arm in his and they both got to their feet. "Come on," she said, "Let's get to Hershel."


	3. Struggle

**A/N: Okay bear with me... I'm on three hours of sleep and my necks is killing me. I haven't had a chance to go through and revise yet, but wanted to at least get it posted for you all. I will review it tomorrow. :) Enjoy!**

"It spread. Everyone who survived the attack in cell block D."

Hershel addressed the council as they sat around the table discussing the situation of the illness taking out the members of their prison home. Skye's leg bounced nervously as she leaned forward onto the table. If what he said was true, then that little girl Brady was looking after would be in that group.

"Sasha, Caleb and now others," he went on.

"Oh, Jesus," Daryl muttered.

"So, what do we do?" Carol asked.

"First things first. Cellblock A is isolation. We keep the sick people there like we tried with Karen and David."

"What the hell are we going to do about that?" Daryl shrugged, knowing it was another issue that definitely needed to be dealt with.

"We can't just let them get away with what they did. Karen and David may have been sick, but we don't know that they would've died. Not for sure. And besides, even if they did, they were behind locked doors. Couldn't get to anyone. So basically what this person did was commit murder based on a whim," Skye fumed.

"Ask Rick to look into it," Carol answered almost instantly. "Try to make a timeline — who's where when." Her eyes fell to Skye, earning a glare in return. Did she seriously think it was her? Or was she hoping? "But what are we gonna do to stop this?"

Hershel hesitated. "There is no stopping it. You get it, you have to go through it."

From where she stood posted up against a bookshelf, Michonne interjected, "But it just kills you?"

Twisting around so he could lean on the back of his chair, Hershel looked to Michonne. "The illness doesn't. The symptoms do. We need antibiotics."

"Is there anywhere we may not have checked?" Skye questioned Daryl. "Maybe we missed something."

He shook his head. "We've been through every pharmacy nearby. And then some."

"That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech, that's one place people may not have thought to raid for medication. The drugs for animals there are the same we need."

Daryl bit at his lip. He knew exactly the place to which Hershel referred. "That's fifty miles. Too big a risk before." He nodded, rising from his seat. "Ain't now. I'm gonna take a group out. Best not waste any more time."

Skye jumped up next to him. "Just give us a list of what to look for and we'll get what we can."

Michonne stepped forward. "I'm in."

"You haven't been exposed," Hershel argued. "They have. You get in a car with them—"

"Daryl's already given me fleas," Michonne teased with a smile.

To their surprise, Hershel moved to join them. "Forget the list, I can lead the way. I know where everything is kept."

Skye looked at him with sympathy. She knew he wanted to help, but there was just too much risk involved.

Having the same thoughts, in a soft voice Daryl said, "When we're out there it's always the same. Sooner or later, we run."

Hershel heaved a sigh. "I'll get to work on that list."

Daryl, Skye and Michonne turned to leave, but Hershel's voice made them stop and turn. "There are other precautions I feel we should take."

"Like what?" asked Carol.

"There's no telling how long it'll be before Daryl and the group return. Wouldn't it make sense to separate the most vulnerable? We could use the administration building. Separate office, separate room."

For the first time, Glenn spoke up. "Who is the most vulnerable?"

"The very young," Hershel stated.

"What about the old?"

Glenn had a point, but that would mean Hershel would be included in that category — something Skye felt he was trying to avoid.

* * *

"Son of a bitch is about a quart low," Daryl growled as he checked the dipstick of the vehicle they planned to use for their journey.

Michonne leaned onto the side of the car. "You still keep it in the bottom of tower three?"

"Yeah."

Brushing the dirt of the car from her hands, she turned to fetch some oil for Daryl. "I'll go get one."

"Hey," he called, "I'm glad you're here."

"Where else would I be?" she smiled.

He paused, looking down at the engine before raising his eyes to her saying, "Running off."

Slightly taken aback, she tried to justify her absence. "You know I'm not running off."

Daryl gave her a nod just to humor her. Truth was, he knew exactly how she felt because he had been there before. Being used to being on your own with maybe one other person and then thrown into a group that's like a big family… it's overwhelming.

Trying to ease the evident tension, Michonne smiled and leaned back on the car door. "So is it just going to be the three of us like in the old days?"

"Yeah, and Bob. Still, feels like we could use another person."

"Who else isn't sick?"

Daryl wiped the dipstick clean and returned it to the oil tube. "We don't ask Rick. He wants to stay here with Carl and Little Ass-Kicker. Keep them safe," he looked up at her, "Plus, there's plenty of other stuff he could do here."

"So who else we got?"

"Well, it's a long shot, but there's Tyreese. He may be itching to save those who are sick. Especially since Sasha is one of 'em. If that falls through then maybe Brady."

"You trust him enough?"

"Not a time to be picky," Daryl called over his shoulder, heading off to find Tyreese.

* * *

Talking with Tyreese hadn't gone as well as Daryl would've hoped, but something told him he could expect him to come around. His baby sister was behind that glass, fading quickly. If she were his sister he would do anything he could to get her the medicine she needed. Giving the car one last look over, Daryl closed the driver side door as Bob passed through the gate.

"Everything look alright?" Bob sat a couple cans of gas next to the rear driver side tire.

"Yeah," Daryl replied, "Zach kept this thing runnin' pretty good."

Uncomfortable at the mention of the name, Bob asked, "This is Zach's car?"

"Yep, fastest one we got." Daryl stood back, watching as Bob mulled something over in his head. "You alright?"

"You really want me coming along?"

Reaching into his pocket, Daryl pulled out a small piece of notebook paper, Hershel's handwriting scribbled in black ink. Most of the words were ones Daryl couldn't pronouce, let alone know what it was. He held it out in front of Bob, pointing to the top item on the list. "What's that word?"

"Zanamivir," Bob answered with perfect pronunciation.

"Yup," Daryl said, slipping the paper back into its place. "We need ya."

Tyreese marched up to the two men, looking more determined than ever. "Still got room for one more?"

"Hell yeah," Daryl nodded.

"Okay," Tyreese bounced. "Just got to grab my gear."

Daryl watched as Tyreese headed back the way he had came. Snatching up his crossbow, he leaned in through the driver side window, setting it on the passenger seat for now. When he reemerged, he found Brady standing behind him. "Sorry, Brady. No room. Tyreese was the last—"

"Daryl, I'm uh-" Brady shook his head. "I'm going in Skye's place."

"What? Why?" Daryl asked, confused.

Brady looked to the pavement before meeting Daryl's questioning gaze to say, "She's in cell block A."

"A block? But that's where Hershel set up isolation—" Realization set in and Daryl, kicked the tire of the car hard. "I was just with her not more than an hour ago! She was fine."

"She's sick, Daryl. We were talking in my cell about the run and she got dizzy, started coughing… I took her to isolation myself, made sure she got there alright."

Daryl brought his hands to his hips and closed his eyes for a moment, turning his head up to the sky. Springing into action he pointed to Bob. "Get those gas cans in the trunk now. Then get Michonne and Tyreese. We're leaving NOW." Daryl jerked the driver side open and slid inside.

"What do you want me to do?" Brady asked.

Without even looking at him, Daryl growled, "Get your ass in the car."

* * *

Burning. That's all Skye could feel. Everything ached and burned with every movement. Her symptoms had only started a couple hours ago, but they weren't slow to progress. As she climber the stairs to the cell she had been designated, she happened to catch a glimpse of one of her isolation mates. "Glenn?"

Leaning his head up slightly from where he lay on his cot, he stared back at her in confused. "Skye?"

"I didn't know you were in here."

"I thought you were going to the veterinary school with Daryl." He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain. She was at his side as fast as she was able, easing him back down.

"Don't get up. Just rest." She coughed, her lungs feeling like they were full of shards of glass.

"You need to do the same."

"I will," she smiled, leaning back against the sink in his cell.

Both fell silent for a few moments before she said, "Do you think they'll make it back with the meds?"

"It's Daryl. Of course they will. He's not one to give up."

Skye half-smiled, knowing that was completely true. She thought back to how much effort he put into trying to find Sofia. He had even almost died doing it.

"They'll bring the medicine," Glenn said, his voice fading as he laid back, falling asleep.

Pulling his blanket up around his shoulders, Skye headed off to her own cell to get some rest.

* * *

Leaves flew off the road as the car passed by leaving a path as the group sped towards their destination. Daryl had one hand on the wheel as he focused on the road, trying to keep his mind busy as he chewed on his lip. Everyone in the car was quiet, all dealing with their troubles in silence.

Daryl gave a sideways glance at Michonne sat in the passenger seat, looking out at the trees as they flew past. "Hey, I know you weren't runnin' off. The thing is… that trail went cold. You know that, right?"

Michonne didn't respond. Instead, she stared out through the windshield, sadness and defeat radiating through her eyes.

"If it was any different," Daryl continued. "I'd be right out there with ya."

Finally Michonne looked over at him, but it was a look of disbelief. "Now, we both know that isn't true."

"What do ya mean?"

"You're tied to the prison, to Skye. You mean to tell me that with her there that you would be out there with me searching for the Governor?"

Daryl looked at her and then back out the window. She knew the answer and so did he. Skye was his home now. How could he leave that to look for someone who may not even be alive anymore, let alone the state?

"She'll be alright, ya know?" Michonne said. "We'll get back with what we need to get her and the others better. We just have to have faith."

Nodding, Daryl began to fiddle with the knobs of the radio, trying to keep his emotions hidden. The radio crackled with static as he searched hopelessly for something to kill the silence. "Why don't you hand me one of those cd's right there?"

Michonne grabbed the cd booklet and began flipping through, but her attention as well as Daryl's was jerked toward the sound coming in bursts through the speakers.

"… _find sanctuary_."

Brady leaned forward, squeezing between the seats exclaiming, "Was that a voice?!"

Shushing him, Daryl adjusted the signal a little more." … _determined to survive_ …" Bouncing back and forth between 97.1 and 96.9 Daryl caught a little more. "… _Keep alive_."

They all stared at each other in shock, not knowing what to make of what they had heard. Daryl looked back up to the road and slammed his foot down onto the brakes, jerking the wheel frantically as he swerved around the numerous walkers ahead. The tires squealed on the road, drawing unwanted attention. Successfully making it through the group of walkers, they were disappointed to see what awaited them. The car screeched to a halt.

Hundreds of walkers had massed on the road and were now making their way to the vehicle. They latched onto the windows like leeches, trying desperately to get to their meal.

Daryl twisted around, holding onto the back of Michonne's seat as he yelled, "Grab something!"

Everyone braced themselves as he slammed his foot down onto the accelerator, reversing through the walkers. Running over whatever was in their path, it wasn't long before they found themselves stuck. They were now hitched up on a pile of dead walkers.

"Go to the left," Michonne suggested, but it was no use. The tires were just grinding away as the flesh peeled away from the bodies beneath the tire.

Brady, scrunched between Bob and Tyreese, yelled, "We're gonna have to run. That's the only way."

Daryl looked around, spotting an opportunity. "Make a run for the gaps right there." He pointed out Michonne's window. "Make a run for the woods and don't stop for nothing, you hear me?"

Michonne, Brady and Bob nodded vigorously while Tyreese remained silent almost as if in his own world. Daryl opened the sunroof, ready to leap out with them. "Now!"

Michonne and Bob thrust the doors open, leaping out and doing as Daryl had instructed. Brady swung his machete fearlessly at anything in his path with Michonne and Daryl at his side. Shots could be heard from behind him, but he didn't look back. His goal was to get to the woods. Not stopping. Not for anything. They had to make it. If they failed, everyone back at the prison who was sick would die, including his baby sister. He was almost there. Just a few more feet. The four of them reached the edge of the woods, turning back to see Tyreese swarmed by walkers, but not going out without a fight.

"Come on," Daryl ordered and they all headed into the woods, fighting their way through whatever walkers had strayed from the road. They reached a small clearing and Daryl stopped, hearing something in the bushes behind him. "Hold up." Loading a bolt into his crossbow, he aimed towards the bushes, ready to fire. To walkers stepped out into the light, but just as Daryl was aiming down his sights at the walker's head, it fell to the ground dead with a very exhausted, gore-covered Tyreese standing over it, his hammer held out. He fell to one knee and Daryl lowered his weapon. Michonne took care of the other walker. Others could be heard approaching and Daryl and Brady helped Tyreese to his feet, ready to run.

* * *

Knock, knock, knock. Skye didn't even bother trying to see who now stood in the doorway of her cell. Her strength was near non-existent, her muscles aching more than she had ever felt before. Her joints stiff. So much so that she felt that if she tried to move her bones would break. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to fight back the pain of coughing. A cool hand brushed her damp hair back from her sweat-drenched face.

"Has the blood started?" Hershel asked.

She managed a small shake of her head.

"Here," he said, holding a small cup out towards her mouth. "Take a sip. It will help keep you going until Daryl and the others get back."

Moving forward just enough, Skye took a small sip of what Hershel offered her, choking on it as it went down.

"Elderberry tea, a home remedy my wife used to make when we got sick. Does wonders. Drink up."

"Brady—" Skye coughed. "He went with Daryl?" Her voice was weak, but she managed to speak loud enough for him to hear.

"Yes, that he did. But don't you worry about that. Daryl will get him and the rest of the group back before you know it. Of that I'm sure."

"Your face… there's blood."

Hershel smiled. She was the one lying here near death and it was him she was concerned about. "Part of the job. We all have jobs, Skye. Yours is to get some rest until Daryl gets back with some medicine. Now lie down, child."

Skye closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come easily. It wasn't just from the pain. It was from knowing her brother and Daryl were out there, far from home. She just wanted to know they would be home safely.

* * *

"Hey, Ty," Daryl yelled down from the bridge to Tyreese who was busy cleaning his shirt in the creek below. Daryl folded up the map that he, Brady and Michonne had been checking out for the past ten minutes. "Come on, let's go. Vamanos." Tyreese just kept working on his shirt so Daryl shook his head and moved on. He didn't have time for this. Bob stayed behind to reason with Tyreese, but Michonne and Brady stayed at Daryl's side.

Eventually the two had rejoined them and they all walked on, heading for a town just South of where they were, hoping to find what they needed since the veterinary college was put on hold. As they walked on, Daryl's eyes scanned the ground. Spotting what he was looking for, he knelt down and picking it up, licked his thumb to rub away the dirt of the rock's surface.

"Is that Jasper?" Michonne asked.

"Mhmm."

"It's a good color. Brings out your eyes," she smiled teasingly.

"Good size, too," Brady nodded. "Skye and I used to find Jasper while playing in the creek behind our house. Used to see who could collect the most."

With a tone of seriousness, he explained, "When Miss Richards went into A block, we were leaving. Asked me to keep a lookout. I'm gonna use it for her old man's marker."

"Yeah, she was pretty brought down. She was in the cell next to Adaleine," Brady's voice trailed off, wondering how the little girl was doing. That girl was tough as nails even if she didn't know it. Maybe that was why he was so protective of her. She reminded him of Skye.

"You know all them back there?" Michonne asked them.

"You stay in one place more than a couple hours, you'd be surprised what you pick up." He tossed the rock up, catching it as he and Brady continued on. About twenty more minutes into their trek, they came up to the town, greeted by a gas sign whose twisted price numbers read, 'hell'.

The group passed by a garage, but Daryl stopped as something caught his eye. "You see somethin'?" Brady called.

"I don't know, maybe." Pushing back some of the hanging foliage, he caught glimpse of something familiar — a brake light. "It's a car."

While Tyreese and Bob pulled the vines off of the abandoned vehicle, Daryl worked the wires, hoping to get a sign of life. Sighing, he threw the wires back onto the floor, giving up. He climbed out of the car saying, "We gotta find us a new battery."

"Well," Brady shrugged. "We are at a garage. There's bound to be one lying around, right?"

Daryl nodded, hopeful that he was right. Scratching the stubble of his chin, Brady looked around the building. Shaking his head, he pointed to the window at the back of the car. "May want to peek in first. Don't want to run into anything unforeseen."

Spitting on his hand, Daryl went to wipe away the dirt from the glass, but he jumped back as a walker jumped at the glass from the other side, pressing it's hands against the window. Daryl shot a look back at Brady.

"What? How was I supposed to know that would happen?" Brady raised his hands up in defense, chuckling.

"Come on," Daryl snorted, pulling out his blade and heading for the vines hanging from the building walls. "Let's see how many we got."

The group started in, but it was Tyreese that had their attention. He was hacking away with all his might, grunting in frustration as all his pent up anger was being taken out on the vines.

"Hey, man, go easy," Daryl warned, pulling a vine free. "We don't know what we're dealin' with." But as usual Tyreese didn't listen. His grunting intensified as he got himself caught on something in the vines. As he pulled and pulled to get his weapon free, there was a clanking, almost as if there were a door hidden in the green. With one more jerk, his weapon was free, but it brought something along with it. Wire was wrapped around the end of his blade, the ends torn and frayed. Everyone's eyes were still on him as he shook in his anger, ripping the wire free.

Daryl knew he needed to keep a close eye on him. The road he was going down was a dangerous one and not just for him. He could take the whole group down with him. Suddenly a hand thrust out through the vines, clutching onto Daryl's vest. Struggling against it, his boots slid in the dirt unable to get traction. One slice of Michonne's katana freed him, but more walker's erupted. One grabbed onto Bob, one on Tyreese… Piercing his attacker's skull with his knife, Daryl turned to the others. Michonne worked her way around, slicing the head off of the walker attacking Bob. Tyreese on the other hand, wouldn't let go of the walker in front of him.

"Ty!" Daryl yelled.

"Ty, let go!" Michonne ordered, but it didn't matter. Tyreese pulled the walker out, landing hard onto his back, the walker chomping down from above him.

Brady lunged forward, stabbing the walker in the head and pulling it aside. Daryl helped Tyreese to his feet before heading back to the door they had uncovered. All Daryl had was a tiny flashlight, but it seemed that the coast was clear. "In here," he announced, walking into the main room of the garage. There were tools, empty oil cans, random parts and voila! There on a shelf at the far end of the room a car battery. Now they could get the car started and head back to the veterinary college. There may be some hope yet…

* * *

It felt like it had been weeks since Daryl and the others had left on their mission to find the medicine. Skye found herself going in and out of consciousness. At least that's what she thought was happening. It seemed like she was losing time. Moments of darkness taking over. She found herself being haunted by the memories she had shared with her family. Mom, Dad, Riley… Their eyes stared back at her as if to say they would be seeing her soon. It was almost welcoming. Almost made her want to give in, to surrender herself to the sickness. But no… she had to fight. There were those who counted on her to stick around. Maggie, Rick, Brady… Daryl. She longed to hear their voices. She would stay strong for them. If she survived this, they would be the reason. But how long could she hold out? How long before her body couldn't take anymore?

Her body lurched and she rolled to the edge of the bed, coughing violently, sending white flashes through her mind. Blinking her burning eyes, she stared down at the cement floor of the cell. What she saw there made her heart drop. Blood. They needed to hurry.

* * *

The halls of the veterinary school filled with the sound of rushed footsteps as Daryl and the others sprinted looking for a way out. The dead had found them and weren't far behind. To make matters worse, they couldn't even shoot them because they had the same blood stains on their face, showing they had died from the sickness. They couldn't risk getting sick. Not now.

They climbed the stairs as fast as they could, coming up on a hallway lined with desks and chairs, ending with a large window.

"We don't have an exit," Michonne told the group, checking the door at her right.

"Then we make one." Daryl leapt up onto the windowsill, ready to make an attempt to break the window open. Brady jumped up next to him, pounding on the glass with the end on his knife.

"Get down!" Tyreese yelled as he hurled a fire extinguisher at the window, effectively smashing it to pieces.

"Come on! Move it!" Daryl told Michonne, helping her to safety.

"Jump out onto the walkway below," Brady stated, pulling Tyreese up with them.

They exited one-by-one with Bob being the last to jump over. His landing wasn't as smooth as the others though and he fell flat onto his stomach, the bag with supplies hanging over the edge and within reach of the walker herd on the grass. They snarled viciously as they tried to use the bag to pull him down to be eaten.

Turning and seeing Bob's situation, Brady alerted the others, "Hey!"

They all rushed to Bob's aid, struggling to pull him backward because of his death grip on his bag. Bob had shared his dark secret about his alcoholism and the link with Zach's death with Daryl back at the garage while fixing the car so Daryl assumed he felt guilty for letting the bag get into this predicament. Everyone tried to reason with him to get him to let go of the bag, but he refused. "Let go of the bag, man!"

The bag came free and Bob was quickly pulled backward out of reach. Clang! Daryl crept toward where the bag lay a couple feet from Bob. His eyes landed on the glass sticking out from under the flap of the bag. Pulling a bottle of whiskey from the bag, his blood began to boil. Bob rose to his feet and he knew he was caught. "You got no meds in your bag?" Daryl asked, knowing the answer. "Just this?"

Brady stepped up behind Daryl, his eyes flying accusingly to Bob. His sister was back at the prison waiting for this medicine and this fool had alcohol as his priority.

"You should have kept walking that day," Daryl fired, lifting the bottle to smash it.

"Don't!" Bob's hand flew to the gun at his side.

That was it. Daryl was in his face in an instant, breathing hard with his forehead pressing up against Bob's in intimidation. Taking Bob's gun from him, he grabbed a fistful of Bob's vest.

"Just let it go, Daryl," Tyreese called.

"He can't get away with this," Brady growled. "Who chooses the bottle over meds for a whole group of people. Women, children—"

"The man's made his choice. Ain't nothing you can do about it. Just gotta let it go."

Daryl released him, but still his eyes bore into him.

"I didn't want to hurt nobody," Bob explained. "It was just for when it gets quiet."

Daryl took a breath and pressed the bottle into Bob's chest. Leaning in close, he lowered his voice. "You take one sip. When those meds get into our people I will beat your ass into the ground. You hear me?"

Spinning on his heels, Daryl snatched up his bag and headed off for the car. While the others talked about how to get back to the prison, Daryl sat in the passenger seat, foot propped up on the dash as he spun the Jasper around in his fingertips. The car shifted as Brady jumped into the driver's seat.

They sat quietly for a moment before Brady spoke. "Do you think she's still alive?" He sighed and Daryl just remained staring down at the rock in his hand. "I'm holding onto hope that she is. She was always tough. Even growing up. Beat up my friends on occasion." Brady chuckled. "Ya know, the ones who gave her a hard time. Though they pretty much kept their comments to themselves afterwards." As if he had answered his own question, Brady smiled. "Yeah, she's alive."

Daryl nodded slightly.

"They said it was going to be about another seven hours before we got back. Have to get some more gas."

The trunk slammed shut and the other three joined them in the car. Brady turned the key in the ignition. "She'll be alright. We'll get back to her."

 **Review please! I would greatly appreciate it!**


	4. Five Seconds

"How're you feeling today?"

Skye leaned forward onto her knees. Lifting her head up, she smiled up at Hershel the best she could. "A little better today," she lied.

Hershel wasn't fooled. The deep red circles under her eyes and her labored breathing told it all. She wasn't going to be running any marathons any time soon. "We had to intubate Mr. Thomas."

"How long does he—"

"He'll stay alive for now. We just have to keep pumping him some air. Sasha is with him now. I wanted to see if you could relieve her so she can get some rest."

Skye nodded and got up to follow him down to Henry Thomas' cell.

"I'll have someone else relieve you in just a bit." Hershel helped Sasha to her feet and Skye took her place. Before assisting Sasha back down to her own cell, he said, "Every five to six seconds squeeze, Skye."

Sitting cross-legged, Skye leaned forward, both hands on the air bag. Mr. Thomas laid motionless, eyes closed with the intubation tube sticking out from the cut in his throat. _Squeeze_.

Is this what it was going to come to for some of them? Was this kind of end inevitable? Maybe it was better… Better than being eaten alive by some stranger or worse, your friend. _Squeeze_.

The thought of dying before being able to say goodbye to those she cared for haunted her. However, in reality it wasn't much different than before the outbreak. You could die in an instant and never even see your loved ones to say goodbye. _Squeeze_.

Difference now is that the feeling of threat was constant. Death loomed everywhere. Stalking across the fields, streets and forests just waiting for their next prey. _Squeeze_.

Unaware of anything around her except the bag she now held in her hands, Skye was in a sort of trance. How long before this bag had no effect? How long before the time came when the man before her gave in to death? Her knife was in its place at her thigh, but in this state would she be fast or strong enough to eliminate the threat? _Squeeze_.

Only time would tell.

Ten minutes passed with her consumed by her thoughts, but she was soon jerked from them by the sound of her name. Glenn stood with both hands on either side of the door frame, steadying himself. "You should go rest. I'll take over from here."

He held a hand out for her and she gratefully took it, trying hard to do most of the lifting herself. "Thanks," she coughed, sending intense burning shooting into her lungs. She moved past Glenn, exiting the cell. As he sat down and began pumping right away, she turned. "Do you think everything is fine out there? You know, with Rick, Maggie and the others."

Glenn's lips pressed into a hard line. "Maggie was just here. She told Hershel that everything was fine. Actually she wanted so badly to come in here to help."

"But she can't—"

"That's what he told her."

"He? You mean you didn't talk to her?" Skye stared down at him, confused.

He shook his head. "No, I don't want her to see me like this. If she did, nothing would be able to stop her and she doesn't deserve to get this."

Skye chewed on her lip, nodding in understanding. "She loves you. You have to hold on for her. Don't give up."

Glenn's eyes met hers. "That can be said for both of us."

He was right. It was so easy to give in, not just to the sickness, but to the dark thoughts that impending death brought. She needed to push them back, to tell herself that they would be walking through that door any moment. They all did. Giving in would only kill them faster. Making her way back to her bed, she tried to stay positive as she drifted off to a much needed sleep.

 _Bang!_ Skye's eyes shot open as the sound of a gunshot and screams hit her ears. Giving it all she had she pushed herself up as fast as she could, poking her head out from her cell to see what was going on. Down below Hershel was on the ground as a man in front of him was being devoured and a woman rose to her feet, recently turned. Ready to run to help, she turned as she heard Lizzie talking at her left.

"Come on, Henry. Come away from Glenn. Come on. That's it," Lizzie worked on directing the walker's attention away from Glenn, who Skye could see laid passed out in Henry's cell.

The intubation bag hung idly from Henry's throat as he stalked toward the little girl. "Lizzie," Skye called, moving up behind the girl, ready to take the walker down.

Lizzie saw Skye pull her knife free. "No, you can't! He's just sick!"

Ignoring the girl's protests, Skye did not hesitate. She stabbed Henry in the head before turning back to Lizzie. "Lizzie, go lock yourself in a cell until we take care of this. You hear me?" Lizzie just stared past her at Henry's lifeless corpse. "Now!" Skye demanded and Lizzie hurried off, leaving Skye to run to aid Hershel and the others. As she rushed down the stairs Hershel passed her. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Caleb has a gun. Go, help the others until I come back!" Hershel continued on his way.

Getting to the first floor, Skye was met by a snarling walker who she recognized to be Mae Wilson, an elderly lady who was one of the sweetest people she knew. She even reminded Skye of her own grandmother a little bit. She was the type of person who was always smiling, which as time went by led to a lot of wrinkles around her mouth. Skye gave a sad sigh. "I'm sorry." Thrusting her blade into her skull, she moved on to the next who was chasing after a small boy. Taking care of her, she put her hand on the boy's shoulder. "Run upstairs to Hershel. He'll lock you in a cell. Run!"

The boy took off and there was the sound of a gunshot and a crash, but Skye couldn't see where it came from. The screams had died down as all those who had made it were now locked in cells for safety. Just when she thought the coast was clear there came a shuffling of feet from behind her. Cold hands grabbed onto her shoulders as she spun around and both fell to the floor. Hard. Vision blurry, Skye used every last ounce of strength she had to hold him off and finally her knife found his brain. The walker's weight fell heavy on top of her. Sweat glistened from her face and her breathing came at even more of a struggle than it had since she had been in here. Maybe it was because of the large man lying on top of her or maybe it was her body finally giving in. She had no idea and no time to think about it before everything faded to black.

* * *

Slowly, everything seemed to start to come back. His voice was the first thing she heard. "You with me?"

Eyes fluttering open, Skye looked up into a familiar smiling face and she felt a huge weight fall from her shoulders. She let out a sigh of relief and if it wasn't for the pain she probably would have let out a small laugh from the overwhelming happiness inside her at that moment.

"We're back, Sadie." Brady held his sister in his arms, kissing her forehead. "We're back. You're going to be alright."

Skye grabbed onto his shirt, almost afraid that this was a dream. Clinging to him, she asked, "What happened out there?"

"Don't worry about that. Everyone made it back safe. Daryl's back."

Skye closed her eyes, grateful that there were no casualties.

"He was in here in an instant. Found you passed out under a walker and carried you up here."

Skye lifted her head. "Where is he now?"

"With Rick. I told him to go ahead. That I had you. It seemed like what Rick had to tell him was urgent."

"Wonder what it was," she pondered, laying her head back on Brady's chest. Her strength seemed to be returning; However, it was definitely returning slowly. The sandpaper feeling in her lungs had nearly subsided.

"Did everyone get the medicine they needed?"

"Yeah. We had plenty," Brady answered solemnly and Skye knew it was because they had brought back enough for a lot more people. The walkers had changed that.

"Man, stop saying that like you don't believe it!" Daryl's raspy growl could be heard from somewhere outside of Skye's cell, making Skye even more curious as to what Rick had to tell him.

"Doesn't sound like the news was good," Brady observed, sharing a worried look with his sister. Not even a minute later, someone was at the door blocking the light coming into the cell.

Skye looked up to find Daryl staring in at her, biting his lip. "You're awake."

"Thanks to all of you," she smiled, trying to sit up straighter.

Brady helped her sit up and then left the cell to give them a moment alone. Looking past Daryl, Skye saw Rick leave with Brady. "What was all that about?" she asked.

Daryl shook his head, stepping into the cell. "It was about Carol."

Skye fought back the urge to roll her eyes. "What about her?"

"She went out on a run with Rick and didn't come back."

Skye was taken aback. "You mean she—"

"No, she's alive. He left her out there," Daryl stood in front of her where she sat on her bed.

"But why would he do that? Rick wouldn't do that unless she—" Suddenly it hit Skye. It was her.

"She was the one who kill Karen and David. Told Rick herself," Daryl confirmed her suspicions.

"So he just left her out there to die?"

"He gave her supplies, a car… she'll be fine. She's tough. Just wish he would've waited until everyone was back, ya know?"

Skye nodded. Even though she didn't like it, there was still something between him and Carol. Maybe not romantically, but there was something — a bond. She moved to stand and Daryl grabbed onto her arm, helping her to her feet. Placing a gentle hand on his cheek, she said, "I'm sorry. I'm sure we'll run into her down the road. This world isn't as big as it used to be."

Daryl nodded. "I, uh— I have to go with Rick to tell Tyreese. Get some rest and I'll be back once it's finished."

Skye smiled as he rubbed her hair back from her face before turning on his heel and leaving the cell.

It felt good to be able to leave A Block. She took advantage of it and headed straight for the showers. Being in there that long and sweating constantly made her feel absolutely disgusting. After a stop for some fresh clothes, Skye was not wasting any time getting into the water. The refreshingly cool feeling of it on her face was heaven. It was almost as if she was washing that whole incident away. It was a thing of the past. Just another obstacle they had to overcome. Rubbing the soap over her skin slowly, she savored the moment. But of course, all good moments have to come to an end.

Just as she was tying her last boot, the prison shook violently as some exploded from outside. Sliding her guns back into their holsters, she dashed from the building, coming out to find some of the others gazing through the fences of the courtyard to something outside the prison gates. Stepping up next to Brady, he pushed her behind him for protection. Peering over his shoulder, she saw why.

Six cars were lined up with a tank at the center of them all. Heavily armed people stood behind them staring up to where Rick and the others now stood. One man stood atop the front of the tank. One man with one eye patch.

"The Governor?" Skye breathed.

"Rick!" he yelled up at them. "Come down here. We need to talk."

Skye shielded her eyes from the sun, trying to get a better look. More men appeared from inside the tank. There had to be at least twenty of them.

"It's not up to me," Rick yelled. "There's a council now. They run this place."

"Is Hershel on the council?" the Governor asked and everyone watched in horror as a woman pulled a bound Hershel out from inside one of the vehicles. Hershel limped alongside the woman as she guided him to a place in front of the tank, getting him down to his knees. "What about Michonne?" They did the same with Michonne and now the two knelt next to each other gazing up at their own group. "She on the council, too?"

"I don't make decisions anymore!" Rick shook with anger.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick," the Governor retorted. "Come down here. Let's have that talk."

A silence feel between the two groups as Rick thought over the situation. Deep down he knew there was only one thing to do. Looking to Daryl he received a small nod. Turning to the young boy at his back, he placed a hand on Carl's neck reassuring him. "We can do this. All right?" Carl nodded and Rick pat his boy's neck before turning to Skye. "If this goes south—"

"I know," she said. They had already laid out protocols in case something bad were to happen. Everyone knew their job.

Rick headed out through the courtyard gate and stomped down the yard toward the prison gates where the Governor and his new men awaited.

Skye narrowed her eyes on them. "Martinez isn't with them," she told Brady. "At least I don't see him."

"No, all those people are new. Besides, after what happened last time, I don't think Martinez would've come back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Knew him a long time. Either he left the Governor or the Governor killed him to get his way."

Skye swallowed hard, hoping it wasn't the latter. Daryl joined her at her side, speaking low to the group. "We can't take 'em all on. We'll go through the admin building and through the woods like we planned. We ain't got the numbers no more. When's the last time someone checked the stash on the bus?"

"Day before we hit the Big Spot. We were running low on rations then. We're lower now."

"Yeah, well we'll manage. Things go south everyone head for that bus. Let everybody know."

"What if everybody doesn't know when things go bad?" Tyreese raised a good point. "How long do we wait?"

"As long as we can." Daryl moved toward their stash of weapons, slowly distributing them so they were ready for the inevitable fight to come. He handed an assault rifle to Skye, their eyes meeting for a long moment as they both took in each other's face for what may be the last time.

Heart beating rapidly in her chest, Skye held onto her brother's arm. She didn't see how they were going to get out of this alive. They had way too many. Some of them weak from the sickness, herself included. They couldn't hear anything that Rick and the Governor were saying. It seemed to be a calm discussion and they all stood holding their breath for the moment that would change.

Skye jumped as the Governor fired three shots into oncoming walkers. Her fingers tightened on her rifle, knuckles turning white.

Something Rick said must've hit a nerve with the Governor because he jumped down from the tank, grabbed Michonne's katana and held it at Hershel's throat with his other hand full of Hershel's hair. Maggie and Beth lunged forward, wrapping their fingers around the links of the fence, sobbing as they watched the scene before them. As Rick spoke to the group the Governor slowly lowered the katana. Five to six seconds. That's all it took before Michonne's weapon sliced through Hershel's neck, partially severing his head. Skye's breath caught in her chest and the heartbroken screams of the Greene sisters sent chills down everyone's spine as they watched their father fall to the ground. Skye jumped beside her best friend as they all began firing on the Governor's men. Maggie cried at her side as she took out her anger on the people below.

The fences they had fought so hard to keep up were torn down in an instant as the tank drove forward, clearing the path for the Governor's men to begin their rampage on the prison group. Maggie tapped Beth and Skye's shoulders as she took off, looking for a better covered place to shoot from. But before Skye could follow after her, something stopped her.

"Sadie! Brady!" the Governor yelled up to her. "I'm coming for you!"

Aiming for the truck he was hiding behind, Skye fired trying to take out either the driver or the tires, but she just didn't have a good angle. Kicking the fence, she looked back down to the Governor just in time to see Rick slam into him, knocking him to the ground. "Rick!"

She needed to get down to him, to make sure he was alright, but there was no way. Running from her place at the fence, she ran for cover as the tank pushed past the gate. Firing at the guys walking alongside the tank, she took two of them down as they fired on someone else. Looking to what had their attention she saw Daryl creeping up on them using a walker on a stick as a shield. He threw a grenade at their feet, sending them running. "Daryl!" She ran over to him.

"Skye! Get back here," he pulled her with him, pushing her behind a barrel for cover. Kneeling next to her, he checked her over for wounds.

"I'm fine! I'm not hit. We have to get out of here," she said, panicked.

"We will. Is everybody on the bus?"

Skye looked behind them. "The bus is gone, Daryl." She felt herself beginning to feel hopeless. What were they going to do?

"Skye, look at me," he grabbed her chin. "We'll figure it out, but for now we need to focus. I want you to run. Run for the woods, okay? I will be right behind you!"

"But Daryl—" she protested, but his lips were on hers. He kissed her with the ferocity of a last kiss. Breaking from her, he looked her in the eye. "I _will_ be right behind you. Now go!"

Tears threatened to fall as she nodded and ran as she was told. Rounding the corner of the block, she saw a bearded man wearing a bandana stalking after Brady. The man lifted his gun, aiming for Brady's heart. _Bang_!

Brady watched in shock as blood flowed down the man's face from a hole in his head. The man fell to his knees and then face planted on the pavement, revealing Skye standing behind him, her gun hanging idly at her side.

"Sadie! Perfect timing. I ran out of ammo," Brady exclaimed, holding his empty gun in the air.

A walker growled behind her and she spun, pulling her gun up to fire. Pulling the trigger all she got was a click. Sighing, she said, "That makes two of us."

Grabbing onto her arm, Brady pulled her in the other direction. "Come on. This way."

The two ran.

Ran from the Governor's men.

Ran from the walkers.

 _Ran from their home._

* * *

 ** _Hope you liked it! It'll be interesting to see how everything plays out with everyone separated. Hmm..._**

 ** _Reviews please!_**


	5. Hope Lost

Devastation. That's what befell their home at the Governor's hand. The yard, once full of growing vegetables, livestock, and open air, was now full of death. Walkers roamed aimlessly around the area, stumbling over the bodies of the Governor's men, Hershel's lifeless body among them. Smoke billowed up to the clear blue sky from the tower that was still aflame. It was a battle that nobody won. Yes, the Governor was now dead, but they had lost their home, their security — their hope. One moment they were all happy and with one blink of their eyes it was all gone — nothing but a memory.

Skye tried her best to not think on it much, but there was now a hole inside her. Everyone back at the prison had been her family and now she had no clue where they all were or if they were even alive. She pulled her jacket in tighter to fight the chill of the evening and glanced up at her brother's back as she walked ahead of her. At least she had him…

Suddenly, he stopped. "Look." He pointed to some footprints in the mud at his feet. Kneeling down, he got a closer look.

Tilting her head, she observed, "Look small. Maybe some of the kids?"

"Could be," he mused, getting back to his feet and following the trail. Brady was optimistic. He held onto hope knowing they had all planned for something like this to happen. Sure, it didn't go exactly as they had thought with the bus leaving and all, but still — There had been a plan. There was a good chance a lot of people made it out. Now his goal was to find them. The more numbers the better when it came to fighting off walkers. Looking back over his shoulder, he frowned upon seeing his little sister drifting behind him, her mind obviously somewhere else as she picked at the hem of her jacket sleeve. Stopping her in her place, he made her look at him. "Sadie."

She didn't say a word, but just stared back into his eyes, sadness radiating from her bright blue eyes.

"It's going to be alright. I promise you. There are others. We just have to find them. Okay?" She nodded, but it hurt him seeing her like this. It was as if all her fight was gone. She wasn't one to slither into a hole. She was a fighter and he knew it. "You gotta pick yourself up, Sadie. We have to push on. The faster we do, the more likely it will be that we catch some of them."

"I know," she muttered and pushed past him, following the trail in the mud. She knew he had hope, but she was having a hard time following suit. Most of all, she feared what they may find at the end of this trail. Would they find survivors or something that would prove there was no hope to be had?

* * *

A small fire crackled, sending sparks flying up into the night air and casting a warm glow around the small camp Daryl and Beth had made for the night. Beth broke her eyes from the fire to look to where Daryl sat at the other side, his arms wrapped around his legs. Obviously she had seen him quiet before, but this was different.

"We should do something," she stated, but when he continued to just sit and stare into the flames she repeated herself. "We should do something." Finally, he glanced up at her. "We aren't the only survivors. We can't be. Rick, Michonne, they could be out here. Maggie and Glenn could have made it out of A Block. They could've," she said, her tone attempting to be convincing. She stared wide-eyed over at him and when he looked back to the flames, she added, "Skye could be out here. She's made it out of worse situations, right?" Nothing. Losing her patience, she jumped up. "You're a tracker. You can track. Come on," she urged him, but he sat there, defeated. "The sun will be up soon. We can —" Her words trailed off and she shifted in place. Again, nothing. "Fine! If you won't track, I will."

He watched her grab her knife and head out into the darkness alone. Sighing, he gets up, kicks dirt on the fire and grabs his crossbow before heading off in the direction she had disappeared. They walked in silence the rest of the night. Now the sun shone through the trees, making it easier to see any signs of human life. Studying the ground as he walked, Daryl spotted some footprints in the mud. Rushing over, Beth takes in the sight and her heart soars.

"Could be Luke's or Molly's. Wherever they are that means they're alive."

"No. This means they were alive about four or five hours ago," he shot her down.

"They're alive," she fired back, keeping her hope alive and marching away.

With Beth now leading the way, they came up on some smashed berries in the grass next to the berry bush. Pointing down at them, he said, "They picked up the pace right here. Got out in a hurry. Things went bad."

"Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith," she glared over at him.

"Yeah, faith," he scoffed. "Faith ain't done shit for us. Sure as hell didn't do nothin' for your father."

She rounds on him and his expression turns apologetic, but neither says a word. Putting her knife away, she turned to the berry bush at her back, trying to hide how his words had hurt. Gathering berries, she said, "They'll be hungry when we find them."

Feeling bad about lashing out at her, Daryl pulled out his handkerchief, holding it out for her to wrap the berries in. Hesitantly, she turns around accepting the cloth, sighing as she wrapped up the food and continued on their way. Just a little more ahead, Daryl knelt down next to two dead walkers and by the looks of it both had been taken down by a knife. His eyes drifted up to some nearby leaves. Rising, he rubbed his fingers along them to examine the blood coating their surface.

"What?" Beth asked.

"That ain't walker blood."

"The trail keeps going," she said, pushing past and following the trail of blood. "They fought 'em off."

"No," he disagreed. "Got walker tracks all up and down here. At least a dozen of 'em."

A twig snapped and Beth spun around, knife ready just in case. As her eyes scanned the area, a walker jumped out at her, grabbing onto her shoulders and pinning her arms to her, making her unable to get her knife to his head. In the struggle, she dropped her knife to the leaf-covered ground below. Daryl rushed to her. Not having a shot, he pulled out his knife, yanking the walker from her and pushing him to the ground. Flipping around so that the walker was on top of him, Daryl locked the walker's arms above its head, giving Beth the perfect shot. Snatching up her knife, she plunged the blade into it's skull with a sickening crunch. Throwing the walker off of himself, Daryl panted as he said, "Come on."

Stepping out through the forest's edge, they came up on some railroad tracks and something up ahead drew their attention. The scene was horrific as always. A group of walkers knelt to the ground, digging into some fresh bodies. Firing arrows into some of their heads, he took an arrow in hand, thrusting it into the head of the last walker before they even knew he and Beth were there. There wasn't much left of the bodies. Nothing recognizable in the least; However, there was one thing. A small black shoe lay amongst the bones and gore — a child's shoe.

That was it. Beth was pushed over the edge. Tears began flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed over the loss over who she thought was a child from the prison. Biting his lip, Daryl turned to leave the scene behind them, but stopped once he noticed he wasn't being followed. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "It's time to go, Beth. There's nothing we could've done."

Her sobs turned to anger as she stared down at the shoe. "Maybe if we would've moved faster. If we hadn't sat around that fire— We should've kept moving. No stopping. Then maybe, just maybe —"

"No. You don't know that. Now come on." He pulled gently at her arm, trying to pull her from the horrible scene.

"We should stay on the tracks," she suggested.

"No, we stay in the cover of the trees."

"But what if the others make it here? Then they may see us," she fought.

"Yeah, and we could also get some unwanted attention. Walkers and maybe even other not-so-friendly humans."

She hated that he was right. Absolutely hated it. But still, she followed him back into the woods to keep on their way.

* * *

"Sadie, up here!"

Skye ran towards the sound of Brady's voice and she found him standing at the edge of the forest, his face dark as he looked back at her. Stepping up beside him, she saw why. He had found a road and in the middle of that road was the bus from the prison. The back doors were flung open and the bodies of dead walkers were strewn out behind it. "We should go look. See who was in it."

He followed her up to the road, not knowing what they would find. While she looked to see who the walkers on the ground were, he pulled himself up into the bus.

Skye took a deep breath. This wasn't a good start on their journey to find the others. The bus had been their hope for an escape. If anyone had made it, it should have been those on it. After a minute or two Brady jumped back down to the ground.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Seems like the majority of them were the kids. Some of the elderly folk. Mainly the ones who were in A Block."

Her heart ached at his words. Those poor children… Then it clicked. "A Block? So was Glenn—"

"No," he answered quickly. "None of your main group."

That at least gave her some relief, but not knowing if they were alive was killing her. The last she saw, Rick was down in the yard with the Governor. Had he made it out safely?

"Let's go," Brady said, placing a hand on her back. "We need to find some place to camp or some shelter before night falls."

Skye nodded and they headed into the woods, opposite the way they had came. Their luck seemed to have turned in their favor as they came up on a small house, tucked away amongst the trees. It was a nice little house, maybe a family's summer hideaway. It looked to be in good shape, but who knew what was waiting inside. Backs pushed up against the wall on either side of the front door. Skye nodded and Brady pushed the door open. Weapon ready, Skye stepped in first, shining her flashlight around the room. The living room was clear as was the kitchen and one of the bedrooms, but once they came into the master bedroom they heard a thud. Thud, thud, thud… Brady stood, knife held in the air, waiting. Hand wrapped around the doorknob, Skye awaited his signal before jerking the bathroom door open. A single walker stood inside, thumping into the sink and just as it noticed Brady in the mirror a knife sliced into its brain.

"I'll secure the windows. You wanna take him out?" she asked her brother, who nodded in return.

After covering the windows with some blankets she found in a closet, Skye settled into the couch. Finally, she could relax a minute. Her legs ached, burning from running for so long. She closed her eyes for what she thought was just a moment, but when she reopened them she found Brady sitting in the recliner across from her, leaning forward and cleaning his gun. "Man, girl. You were out like a light."

Sitting up straighter, she rubbed her head. "Was I? Didn't feel like it."

"I came in from taking the walker outside and you were passed out. Thought I'd let you sleep. You needed it."

"We both do. You can get some if you'd like. I'll take watch," she offered but he shook his head.

"Not yet. I need something to eat."

"Yeah, but Brady we don't have—" Her words cut off as he threw a can over to her with a smile. Twisting it around in her hand bright letters met her gaze… peaches. She looked at him confused. "Where did you—"

"Pantry. I took the liberty of looking while you were out. There's loads of food in there. Take your pick. I just know peaches are one of your favorites."

She smiled gratefully at her brother. There were no words to express how grateful she was that he was here with her. Pulling back on the tab to open the can, she licked the juice from her finger as thunder rumbled just outside. "So what else is on the menu, Chef Brady?"

"Well, let's see," he marched over to the pantry, nearly missing the small smile that played on Skye's lips.

* * *

Thunder was rolling in and the sky lit up with flashes of lightning as Beth and Daryl leapt out from the woods, searching an abandoned vehicle on the side of the road. The familiar sound of danger approaching hit Daryl's ears. Opening the trunk, he and Beth climbed inside for cover. Using a spare cloth he had found he tied the trunk shut, hoping it would hold in case of a heard finding interest in the car. Just as an extra precaution, he sat with his crossbow aimed at the opening, ready to fire if needed. The growling intensified as a large herd passed along the road. There was pounding as the walkers bumped along the car, beating on it for signs of life. Hours passed and finally daylight made it's way in through the cracks.

Beth untied the cloth and they emerged, finding the road clear. Their scavenging resumed and Daryl collected some wire and a hubcap while Beth bagged a Fiji bottle, car mirror and some glass from the broken headlights. All came in handy when they found a place to set up camp for the night. Using the headlight glass and mirror, Beth got a fire started and Daryl set up the wire and hubcap as a sort of alarm for if walkers passed through. While working on it, Daryl caught sight of something that would be a delightful treat later. Finding the perfect stick with a forked end, Daryl stabbed downward, the fork holding a rattlesnake in place by its base of its head.

About an hour later, Daryl was digging into his serving of their dinner. Rattle snake wasn't half bad... He chomped on it like a corn on the cob. Beth, on the other hand, picked cautiously at it before sitting it down. Looking around the camp, she said, "I need a drink." Daryl tossed a bottle of boiled water at her, but she shook her head. "No, I mean a real drink. As in alcohol." Daryl just kept eating, not saying a word. "I've never had one. 'Cause my dad. But he's not exactly around anymore so... I thought we could go find some." Still no answer. "Okay," she says, "Well, enjoy your snake jerky."

Daryl threw what was left of the snake to the side, picking pieces of the meat from his teeth as he grabbed his crossbow. That girl was going to get herself killed... He found her hiding behind a tree trunk as a group of walkers passed by. Stepping on a twig, he made her jump. He led her away, but she was disappointed when she saw where he was taking her.

"What the hell?! You brought me back!" she yelled, angry once she ran into one of Daryl's homemade traps. "I'm not staying in this suck-ass camp," she fired and as he approached her she flipped him off and turned to leave.

"Hey, you had your fun," he reached for her arm, but she pulled it away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped. "Do you feel anything? Yeah, you think everything's screwed. I guess that's a feeling. They're all gone. Until we come across them or not, it's just you and me! I get it, I do. You hate not knowing what happened to them... to her. So you want to sit around staring at the fire and eating mud snakes? Screw that. We might as well do something. I can take care of myself and I'm gonna get a damn drink." She stormed off.

Daryl looked around the camp, thinking her words over. There was nothing for them here. Might as well spend their time doing something. Catching up to her, they stepped out onto a golf course.

She looked over at him. "Golfers like to booze it up, right?"

After finding the front door to the Pro Shop barred shut, Daryl and Beth ended up at the side door. With a grunt, Daryl kicked the lock from the door. Inside they found what looked to be a survivor camp. Clothes hanging on makeshift clotheslines, pots with dried food lying around, sheets hanging to create more personal spaces... and then there were the 'survivors'. They found them hanging from the vents in the ceiling. They had removed ceiling tiles to get to somewhere to attach their ropes securely. Now they just hung there, jaws biting at the air. Ignoring them, Beth searches through their stuff, picking up a souvenir spoon that read 'Washington, D.C.'. Both Daryl and Beth spun towards the door they had entered through as walkers began pounding on it. Hurrying off to the next room, they pulled the doors shut behind them, securing them with a crowbar.

Now in the kitchen of the Pro Shop, they searched for anything resembling food, but they didn't expect to find much since people had been holed up in here. Daryl rummaged through the cupboards, finding a couple things of spices that would come in handy when cooking wild animals. Definitely would've come in handy with that rattlesnake.

There was a crash as Beth was knocked backwards by a walker. In the struggle, he saw her smash a wine bottle across its head, using what was left in her hand to jab it in the head over and over. When that didn't work, she pulled her knife free and stabbed the walker in the head. It fell limp to the floor and she shot an accusing look at Daryl. "Thanks for the help," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You said you could handle yourself. You did." Pushing on, he got them into yet another room. This seemed to be the shop itself. Mannequins, golf clothes, souvenirs, etc. He scowled at all the expensive items surrounding him and was even more annoyed when Beth stepped out in a bright white golf cardigan and a yellow polo shirt. Shaking his head, he turned only to come face to face with a woman's corpse, hanging within a cabinet, a fire poker jutting from her chest and holding her in place. She was decorated with expensive jewelry and clothes, but her shirt had been ripped open, exposing her bra. A sign was stuck onto her chest with bright red ink reading 'rich bitch'.

Beth was in front of the woman in an instant, trying desperately to get her down, but when she asked Daryl for help she didn't get the expected response.

"It doesn't matter. She's dead."

"It does matter," Beth pleaded.

Seeing how much it seemed to mean to her, Daryl snatched a nearby blanket, throwing it over the woman. Satisfied, Beth followed him out of the room, heading downstairs.

They were met by a few walkers, but Daryl didn't hesitate to grab a nearby driver, smashing it into the first walker's head. He took out the other two like any other day, but when he got to the last one Beth saw another side of Daryl she hadn't seen before. He wailed on the walker, beating it not just in the head, but in the torso and limbs too. This wasn't about taking it out. This was about taking out some anger. One last swing to the head, sent blood and gore shooting up Beth, splattering over her cardigan and shirt. Not saying a word, she removed the cardigan and threw it aside.

Leaving the room, she found herself in a bar. "We made it," she breathed. Turning to him, she said, "I know you think it's stupid and it probably is but I don't care. All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry but we don't get to do that. So beat up on walkers if that makes you feel better. I need to do this."

Beth flashed her light around the bar, hoping it would reveal a nice tall bottle of what she was searching for. Looking behind the bar, her heart sank as she found a couple lying dead on the floor. The sound of glass breaking made her heart jolt as she jumped, spinning around to find Daryl pulling a map of the area free from a frame and shaking excess glass to the floor. "Did you have to break the glass?" she sighed, trying to catch her breath.

"No. Did you find your drink yet?" He eyed her.

"I found this." Beth sat a tall clear bottle onto the bar. "Peach schnapps. Is it good?"

"No," he answered flatly, moving past her as he shoved the map into his pocket.

"Well, it's the only thing left." Accepting what she had available to her, she inspected an old coffee mug as Daryl fiddled with the three ball on the pool table before moving on to the dart board. Setting the disgusting mug back down onto the counter, her eyes darted around for another. Darts connected with a framed picture of the golf course board members as Daryl kept himself busy. Shaking her head, she said, "Who needs a glass?" Tears began to sting in her eyes as she pulled at the lid of the peach schnapps. Her fingers not seeming to want to cooperate, Beth let it all. Tears fell freely as the feelings of what had transpired over the past 48 hours hit her hard.

Daryl threw the last couple darts, sending the last one burying itself into the wall with as much power as he could muster. Turning to his crying companion, he snatched the bottle from her and sent it flying down into the floor, sending glass and alcohol in all directions. Her eyes burned into his with confusion and anger. "Ain't gonna have your first drink be no damned peach schnapps." Retrieving his crossbow, he opened the door to leave. "Come on."

Wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Beth slipped down from her seat and followed after him.

* * *

 **Hi, guys! So apparently I had almost two chapters written and never published them. :/ Sorry about that! I will finish up the second one and get that posted soon. :) Reviews please!**


	6. Smoke

Heart beating in her chest, Skye dashed through the trees, trying her best to keep herself breathing. A overwhelming burning sensation radiated from her lungs, which were still a bit weak after having suffered through the illness back at the prison. Letting herself collide with the tree in front of her, she clung onto its trunk. _Deep breaths… deep breaths_ , she thought to herself as she scanned the area. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. They had been running for the past half hour from the hoard that had happened upon the cottage they had taken shelter in. Luckily, they had stuffed some bags full of food last night, but the extra weight was definitely taking its toll. A hand placed at her back had her spinning around, pulling her knife free and ready for an attack.

"Woah!" Brady whispered, hands in the air. "It's me! We can't stop, Sadie. They're not far behind."

With one last deep breath and a nod, she pulled the strap of the bag further up onto her shoulder and followed Brady as he led the way, the sounds of the dead not far behind. Their boots pounded in the dirt, kicking dead leaves up behind themselves as they made their escape. They didn't know where they were headed, nor that it was closing the distance between two of their own.

* * *

"Motorcycle mechanic."

Lifting his head, Daryl eyed Beth in confusion. "Huh?"

"That's my guess. For what you were before the turn," Beth clarified. "Did Zach ever guess that one?"

"It don't matter," he shook his head, creeping toward some low hanging branches. "Hasn't mattered for a long time."

"It's just what people talk about. You know, to feel normal."

"Yeah, well that never felt normal for me." Daryl lifted the branches in front of them to reveal a small cabin secluded in the woods. There was a garage off to the left of the house, garage doors closed and hiding whatever was inside from view. "Found this place with Michonne."

Beth cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I was expecting a liquor store."

"No, this is better." Moving back past the house which included a front porch that was littered with car parts and oil cans, he approached a small building. Peeking in the windows to make sure the coast was clear, he opened the door and snatched up some bottles from a small wooden crate.

"What is that stuff?"

Handing Beth the crate, Daryl smirked. "Moonshine. Come on."Brushing past her, he headed toward the house as Beth gave a bright excited smile at the crate's contents. The place was trashed — papers everywhere, wallpaper peeling from the walls, dishes piled up in the sink, old magazines thrown about. As Daryl proceeds to check the house for any signs of danger, Beth sat the crate down onto the table.

Returning to the kitchen, Daryl found the cleanest mug he could find. Blowing out the dust, he unscrewed the lid to one of the mason jars containing the moonshine, pouring some into the cup for her. "That's a real drink right there."

Staring at the liquid as if she was having second thoughts, Beth saw there was only about a sip in the cup.

"What is it?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing. It's just," she shook her head. "My dad always said bad moonshine can make you go blind."

"Ain't nothin' worth seeing out there anymore anyway."

Beth shot him a look, sensing he was still short on hope when it came to Skye's status. Taking a sip, she winced at the burn. "That's the worst thing I've ever tasted."

Shrugging as he watched her throw back the rest, he said, "Second round's better." Seeing her start to pour herself some more, he held out a hand in caution. "Slow down."

Smiling up at him, she said, "This one's for you."

"No, I'm good," he turned the glass down.

"Why?" she asked, slightly disappointed by the thought of drinking alone.

Stepping back toward the living room, he said, "Someone's gotta keep watch."

"So, you're like what… my chaperone now?"

"Just drink lots of water," he ordered, not wanting to deal with her getting dehydrated, especially when good water was hard to come by.

"Yes, Mr. Dixon," she rolled her eyes. Daryl went on to ignore her obvious annoyance and began nailing some cover over the windows. Running her fingers along the edge of the small end table, Beth took in the various items decorating the room. One thing stuck out in particular — a large pink bra ash tray stuffed to the brim with cigarette butts. "Who'd go to the store and walk out with this?"

Glancing back over his shoulder to see the item in question, Daryl shook his head. "My dad, that's who. He was a dumbass. He'd set those on top of the tv and use them as target practice."

Eyes widening in surprise, she asked, "He'd shoot things inside your house?"

Daryl shrugged. "It was just a bunch of junk anyway," he shook his head dismissively. "That's how I knew what this place was. That shed out there, my dad had a place just like this. You got your 'dumpster chair." He pointed over at the chair to her right. "That's for sittin' in your drawers all summer drinkin'. Got your fancy buckets — that's for spittin' chaw in after your old lady tells you to stop smokin'." His eyes searched the area until they landed on what he was looking for. Snatching up the newspaper, he said, "You've got your internet."

A low growl caught their attention from outside. Peering out through the window, Daryl saw a single stray walker bumping up against the house. "It's just one."

"Should we get him?"

"If he makes too much noise, yeah."

Well," Beth started, grabbing up the mason jar once more. "If we're going to be stuck again, we might as well make the best of it." Stretching her arm out toward him, she gave an innocent look as she tried to get him to take the jar of moonshine. "Unless you're too busy chaperoning, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl fought himself in his head, knowing this wasn't a good idea, but with everything that had gone down recently he went against his better judgement. Taking the jar from her, he said, "Hell, might as well make the best of it." Plopping down into the 'dumpster chair', he unscrewed the lid and propped his feet up. If he could see himself now, he would probably say that he was the spitting image of his father. The two of them lifted their glasses in a silent toast before starting on the interesting night ahead.

* * *

Shivers ran through Skye as she rinsed her hands off in the coolness of the stream before her. Though she hated to admit it, she had tripped more than once while they were running away from the walkers, which resulted in her hands and knees being covers in dirt, hiding a few scrapes here and there. Drying her hands off on her jeans, she pulled her jacket back on and retrieved her backpack before returning to Brady. His brow was furrowed as he leaned onto the hood of an old rusted vehicle on the side of the road, looking over a map they had found back at the cottage. The car had already been cleaned out — even the trunk was left wide open. Coming around the back of the car, something seemed a little off.

"Didn't it rain last night? Thunderstorm?" she asked, as the wheels in her head were turning.

"Yeah, poured. Kept me awake. Why?" he asked, not looking up from the map.

"The inside of this trunk is dry. Doubt it would've been even close to being dry if it had been open during the storm."

Her observation drew him to her. Leaning over, he ran his fingers along the trunk lining. "Huh," he wondered, resting his hands on his hips. "Someone must've opened it recently. Doubt it did it on its own."

Skye became aware of a sudden twinge of hope within herself at the thought that someone had been by here recently. "You don't think…"

"That someone from our group could've opened it? Yeah, it's a possibility," he nodded, running a hand back through his chestnut hair. "Let's keep moving. If it was one of ours then maybe we'll be able to catch up to them."

"Okay but one problem — How do we know which way they went?"

Brady turned to her, his expression not showing his worry. "Well, we don't but we can guess they didn't come from the way we came since we would've seen them, right? So let's just push on and hope for some kind of sign."

Skye nodded.

"Don't you worry, Sadie." Brady patted her shoulder as they went on their way. "Daryl is out there somewhere and I'm going to get you back to him."

A small smile made its way to her lips.

"Maybe then that stubborn bastard will trust me," Brady half-joked, earning a chuckle from his sister.

* * *

"So, first I say something I've never done and if you have then you drink, and it you haven't, I drink. Then we switch." Beth watched as a look of regret passed over Daryl's face. It had taken some effort to convince him to play this with her in the first place. Both now sat on the floor, each with their own jar of moonshine. "You really don't know this game?"

"I never needed a game to get lit before," he stated, rubbing his finger along his lip.

"Wait, are we starting?" she asked, unsure if he had tried to take a turn. Instead of an answer, all she got was a look of suspicion from her opponent.

"How do you know this game?"

"My friends played. I watched. Okay, I'll start," she shifted to sit crosslegged. "I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

"Ain't much of a game," Daryl grumbled, bringing his jar up to his lips.

"That was a warm-up. Now, you go," she smiled.

Chewing on his lip, Daryl thought for a moment. "I don't know," he said, unsure of himself and if he should even be playing this game. It wasn't exactly something you would've found him and Merle sitting around doing before this shit broke out.

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head."

"I've never been out of Georgia."

"Really?" Beth said, surprised. "Okay, good one." She took a drink.

"I've never… been drunk and done something I regretted." Beth eyed him, knowing she had him. Sure enough, Daryl took a drink.

"I've done a lot of things," he stated.

"Your turn," she urged.

"I've never been on vacation."

"What about camping?" she asked, tilting her head at him.

"No, that was just something I had to do to learn to hunt." Daryl shook his head, aware of how little 'family memories' he had.

"Your dad teach you?"

"Mhmm," he answered, not caring to elaborate. He hated talking about his old man. It wasn't even a topic that came up often with Skye.

"Okay," she shrugged and took her drink.

"I've never… been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner." Beth smiled over at him but his expression turned stony.

"Is that what you think of me?" Her suggestion had hurt. Everyone always assumed he was just a white trash redneck who had obviously done jail time. Not Skye though… Her bright smile flashed through his mind, but he shook it away.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I just thought, you know, like a drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day."

"Drink up."

"Wait," her smile returned. "Prison guard. Were you a prison guard before?"

"No," he shot her guess down flat.

"It's your turn again."

"Fine. I never… had a slumber party," he stated, returning the favor of making assumptions.

"Touche," she smirked and took a drink. Thinking of her next turn, she studied him as he stared at the half empty jar in his hand. "I never had sex with someone since the apocalypse started."

Daryl froze and for a second she thought she was going to be the one to drink. After a moment, Daryl took a generous drink, not meeting her shocked gaze.

"Seriously?!" She leaned forward excitedly onto her hands. "You and Skye?!"

Daryl remained silent, wishing that she hadn't used that for her turn. Right now, he needed to push thoughts of Skye from his mind to be able to cope, not be thinking of one of his happiest moments with her.

"Wow! All I can say is… I knew it! You guys have been way too happy these past couple months. You guys are always giving each other meaningful looks, you share a room—" Beth's words were cut short when Daryl rose to his feet.

"I'm gonna take a piss." Daryl stumbled toward the back of the hallway, dropping his mason jar in the process and sending glass shattering across the floor.

"Daryl, you have to be quiet."

"Can't hear you. I'm taking a piss," he hollered, clearly raising his volume to irk her.

"Daryl, don't talk so loud," she warned, starting to get worried that he was going to be attracting more company than they wanted.

"What, are you my chaperone now?" he threw her own words back at her. Zipping up his pants, he returned to the living room. "Oh, wait. It's my turn, right? I've never… eaten frozen yogurt," he spat mockingly, making her frown. "Never had a pet pony. Never got anything from Santa Claus. Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I ever relied on anyone for anything," he yelled, his anger more than evident.

"Daryl," she been, feeling bad about bringing Skye up. She should've known better, but the alcohol was severely affecting her judgement at the moment.

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game." He spun on her scowling as he added, "I sure as hell never cut my wrists for attention."

Sliding back away from him, she tried to just let him get it all out. His anger had been bottled up for so long. A thud drew their gazes to the window as their friend from earlier began to run into the building once more.

"Sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all his buddies," Daryl yelled, kicking a stray bucket against the wall, creating even more noise.

"Daryl, just shut up," Beth was beginning to get angry. He was going to get them killed.

"Here, you never shot a crossbow before?" Retrieving his crossbow, he stalked toward her, holding it out for her to take. Grabbing onto her hand, he pulled her behind him towards the back door. "I'm gonna teach you right now."

"We should stay inside!" she protested, not putting up much of a fight. "Daryl, come on. Cut it out."

Round the corner of the building they found a male walker bumping up against the side of the house. "Dumbass. Hey, Dumbass!" he yelled to gain the walker's attention before firing a bolt into its chest, pinning him to the tree behind him.

"Daryl—"

"You want to shoot?" He took the crossbow from his shoulders and moved her to stand in front of him.

"I don't know how," she nearly whimpered, not liking this side of Daryl.

"Oh, it's easy." He pulled her back against his chest, trying to force her to aim, but she pushed him back.

"Let's practice later," she pleaded him with her eyes. All she wanted was for him to sober up. She wanted the Daryl she knew back.

Pulling the string of the crossbow back, he readied the weapon. "Come on. It's fun." Pushing her back around, he made her face the walker once more.

"Daryl!"

"Come here." He wrapped his arm around her neck, holding her in place while his right arm held the crossbow up so she could see what to do. She began to struggle against him, wanting to run back inside and wait this out. "Just kill it!" he yelled, firing the last bolt into the walker's right shoulder. "Come on, Greene," he growled. "Let's get these arrows out. Get a little more target practice."

While Daryl went to work on pulling the bolts free from the walker so they could start over again, Beth pulled her knife free. She ran up to the walker and stabbed it right in the head before Daryl could make a move to protest.

"What the hell did you do that for? I was having fun!"

"No, you were being a jackass," she yelled back in his face, tears stinging at her eyes. "If anyone found my dad—"

"Don't. That's not even remotely the same." He pointed a finger at her, knowing what she was going to say.

"Killing them is not supposed to be fun! Is this something you would have done in front of Skye?! What do you think she would say right now?!"

Daryl crept closer to her, fuming. "What do you want from me, girl? Huh?"

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything. Like nothing we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. Like _she_ didn't matter. It's bullshit!"

"Is that what you think?" He stepped towards her, making her in turn step back.

"That's what I know."

"You don't know anything," he growled.

"I know you've given up since you lost her. You think that just because she isn't here that you'll never see her guess what, Daryl… she's been lost before! She's made her way back more than once. How is this time any different?!"

"Those other times we were in one place! Not scattered every which way!"

"You're scared," she nodded pointedly. "You're scared that she may have died back there. You're scared that even if she didn't you'll never get back to her, that you never even got to say goodbye. It's okay to be afraid, but it's not okay to give up on her!"

Getting up in her face, Daryl snarled, "I ain't afraid of nothin'."

"I remember when I first met you two. I remember what it was like to watch you both dance around the truth of how you felt. God forbid you let anyone get too close and now here you are—"

Suddenly his back was to her. He didn't want to let her see how her words hit him, but now it was her turn to get up in his face, challenging him to look at her. "Too close, huh?" he spat back at her. "You know all about that. You've lost two boyfriends. You can't even shed a tear. Your whole family's gone. All you can do is go looking for hooch like some dumb college bitch." His arms flailed violently in the air as he took his anger out on her.

"Screw you! You don't get it!" she fought.

"No, you don't get it. Everyone we know is dead!"

"You don't know that!" she shook her head, not believing him for a second.

"Might as well be, 'cause you ain't ever gonna see them again." Daryl's whole body shook with anger even as he watched tears spill over onto her cheeks. "Rick. You ain't ever gonna see Maggie again. Just like I ain't ever gonna see her again."

"Daryl, just stop." She reached out for his arm, wanting to do whatever she could to calm him down, to not hear everything flowing from his mouth, but he jerked his arm away from her touch.

"No!" Not looking at her, he continued, "The Governor rolled right up to our gates."

The man before her grew quiet for a moment and she knew that he was breaking right before her eyes.

"Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl," she whispered, not wanting him to place the blame on himself.

"No!" he yelled back at her. His adrenaline was quickly being replaced by the guilt he had been feeling since the attack. "And your dad. Maybe… Maybe I could have done something."

Not hesitating another second, Beth quickly wrapped her arms around him from behind, hugging him as tightly as she could. She needed him to know she didn't blame him for that happened to her father. His body shook beneath her as he let his sorrow take over and he began to cry. Raising his eyes to the treetops, he let the sun shine down onto him as he finally let the image of Skye back in, her smile radiating through him.

* * *

"Look at all this junk." Brady tossed several souvenirs from the countertop as he and Skye rummaged for anything useful. They had stumbled upon this golf course pro shop and decided it was worth a shot. Unfortunately, like most places nowadays, it smelt like hell. Numerous bodies littered the floors in what looked to have been a mass suicide. Clothes and sheets hung from clothesline, leading her to believe this had been a group of some sort that had holed up in here together, but in the end the apocalypse had proven to be too much to handle.

"Let's just move on," Skye stated, making her way toward the hallway. Heaving a sigh at the blockage just ahead, she shook her head in disappointment. "Maybe we should just turn around. I'm sure there isn't much to be found here anyhow."

"Come on, Sadie. Where's your sense of adventure?" Brady's lips spread into a playful smile. "Here. Let's just crawl under."

Without waiting for her response, her brother dropped to his hands and knees. Taking her backpack from her shoulders, she threw it over the blockage to the other side, nearly missing her brothers head.

"You did that on purpose," he accused, getting to his feet.

Coming out on the other side, Skye feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His playful demeanor was replaced by alertness. "Shh. You hear that."

The sound of shuffling feet just ahead told them that they weren't alone. "Sounds like we have company. Shall we?"

"I'll go first," he said, pulling his knife free as he stalked toward the door. Pushing it open slowly, he saw it was only two walkers. Signaling to his sister that he would get the one on the left, he thrust the door open, making way for them to jump on the walkers. Both targets taken care of, Skye wiped her blade on a blanket hanging by the wall. She pulled just a little too hard and it came cascading down to the floor. Her heart gave a jump as a mostly decayed corpse was revealed.

Her little scare had her brother joining her at her side, taking in the sight before them. It was a woman's torso, her shirt ripped open and revealing her bra, over which was stapled a piece of paper reading 'rich bitch'. "Now that's just sad," Brady observed. "As if this world didn't have enough monsters." Shaking his head, he continued toward the next hallway.

Biting her lip, Skye returned the blanket to it's original place, covering the woman out of respect. Turning to grab her bag, something familiar caught her eye. One of the dead walkers that had already been here had something jutting out from his head that made her heart stop. "Brady."

Stopping at the door, he turned to see what had his sister sounding so distressed. "what is it?" His eyes followed her gaze and his eyes widened, knowing exactly what had caught her attention. "Is that—"

"One of Daryl's bolts," she finished for him. Kneeling own next to the corpse, she ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the bolt. "He made it." Her voice was a near whisper as she tried to process what this meant.

"That's just perfect! Now if we hurry, maybe we can catch up to him and whoever he's with." Brady's hand found her arm, pulling her up to her feet and leading her toward the door.

Skye felt a new rush of hope. Maybe she would be able to reunite with him after all. Maybe he was with the others. Maybe Brady and Skye were the only ones who got separated. Different scenarios flew through her mind and she barely noticed that they were outside and marching toward the line of trees.

"He better be happy when we find him. We probably should've grabbed that bolt for him. I bet he could've used it…" Brady rambled on, his words lost on Skye. "Hello? Earth to Sadie."

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she met her brother's eyes. "Hmm?"

"Man, I need to get me someone. One bolt and you're all lost to the world and deep in thought. There anyone in the group you think would be good for me?"

Skye laughed. "Don't think so."

"What about Sasha? She's tough, smart, beautiful… just like me." He winked, earning a raised eyebrow from Skye.

"Wouldn't count on it. I think she should go after Bob. Not you," she teased.

"Hmm… well, I hope I find someone."

"I'm sure you will, Brady," Skye chuckled, stealing a sideways glance at her brother. "I'm sure you will."

* * *

Crickets chirped as the cool air made the hairs on Daryl's arms stand up on end and the moonlight shone through the leaves of the trees.

"I get why my dad stopped drinking," Beth mused, staring at the empty mason jar sitting on the porch floorboards at her feet.

"You feel sick?" Daryl asked, staring up at the sky.

"Nope." Beth picked at a string coming loose on her jeans. "I wish I could feel like this all the time. That's bad."

"Hmm." Digging his knife into the wood post at his left, Daryle began carving the first thing that came to mind. "You're lucky you're a happy drunk."

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they're drunk," she teased, smirking over at him.

"Yeah, I'm a dick when I drink." Slivers of wood began piling up on the floorboard as his knife went to work and a thought of his brother popped into his mind. "Merle had this dealer. This hanky little white guy. A tweaker. One day we were over at his house watching tv. Wasn't even noon yet and we were all wasted. Merle was high. We were watching this show and Merle was talking all this dumb shit about it. And he wouldn't let up. Merle never could." Pausing, he let his eyes glide over his work. "Turns out it was the tweaker's kids' favorite show. And he never sees his kids so he felt guilty about it or something. So he punches Merle in the face. So I started hitting the tweaker, like, hard. As hard as I can. Then he pulls out a gun. Sticks it right here." Daryl gestured to his head. "He says, 'I'm gonna kill you, bitch'. So Merle pulls a gun on him. Everyone's yelling. I'm yelling. I thought I was dead. Over a dumb cartoon about a talking dog." He shook his head, remembering the stupidity of it all.

"How'd you get out of it?"

"The tweaker punched me in the gut, I puked, they both started laughing and forgot all about it." Heaving a sigh, he went on, "You want to know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle… doing whatever he said we were gonna be doing that day. I was nobody. Nothing. Some redneck asshole and an even bigger asshole of a brother."

A silence fell between them for a minute before Beth spoke up. "You miss Merle, don't you? I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around," she laughed. "I miss my big brother, Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective. And my dad. I thought — I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby and he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved." She fought back tears, picturing how life could've been. "That's how unbelievably stupid _I_ am." Angry with herself, she grabbed his jar of moonshine and took a drink.

"That's how it was supposed to be," Daryl said.

"I wish I could just… change."

"You did."

"Not enough. Not like you. It's like you were made for how things are now."

"I'm just used to it, things bein' ugly. Growin' up in a place like this," Daryl stared over at the moonlit carving of a lily that now decorated the post. "When Skye came around, I was scared. The way she looked at me, the way she seemed to believe that I was something worth fighting for — that was something I hadn't ever experienced. It terrified the hell outta me."

"But it was worth giving it a shot, right?"

"Hell yeah. With this group, with Skye… I feel like a somebody. Like I matter," Daryl chewed on his cheek. "I need to find her, Beth. She has to be alive."

"We will," Beth reassured him and after a few more minutes of some rather depressing talk about how he was a survivor and that meant he would be there to see her die, they landed on the plan of burning the entire house down. Gathering up as much alcohol as they could, they got right to work…

* * *

They had been walking most of the night, only stopping for a quick rest, and now they stood staring up at something in the sky. Smoke. Something up ahead was burning.

"What do you think we should do? Should we go see what it is? Maybe it's one of the group."

"What do you think we should do?" Brady asked, looking to his sister.

"I think it may be worth checking out. Don't you?"

His eyes narrowed on the billowing clouds of smoke. "Not really. I think that's a dangerous idea. We are probably not the only ones drawn to it. Walkers have probably seen it and may have herded the area. I don't think it's a risk we should take."

With a deep breath, Skye thought it over. She knew her brother was right, but something deep down told her they should go that direction. Giving in, she gave a nod of approval. "Alright, well then where to?"

Brady pointed off at a forty-five degree angle, somewhere in between the way they had come and they way of the smoke, and once again they were on their way with a gnawing curiosity over what may have been the source of the fire.


	7. So Close

Leaving their destruction in their wake, Beth and Daryl had managed to come across a small graveyard, a funeral home at its center. The place was clean, no sign of trouble, but that just made Daryl even more cautious. A building didn't stay clean all on its own — someone had to be tending to it. Nowadays he found himself always expecting the worst of people to come stumbling upon their group. But hell… past experience had proved him right. Deciding it was all clear, for now at least, they had made way into the room that was formerly used to prep the bodies for their funeral. From the looks of it, someone was still putting it to use. Two corpses laid on slabs, faces made up with makeup to try to make them look human again.

"Let's get that ankle wrapped up," Daryl said, retrieving what he needed from the cabinet as Beth eyed the bodies. While he was teaching her how to track, they had come across a walker and as she crept up to kill it her ankle had gotten caught in a trap. Luckily she had only sustained minimal damage. He ripped the package open with his teeth, looking between her and the bodies. "Looks like somebody ran out of dolls to dress up."

"It's beautiful," she quickly corrected. He didn't fight her on it, just furrowed his brow as if she was losing it. "Whoever did this cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people before all this." Daryl hung his head as she finished. "They didn't let it change them in the end. Don't you think that's beautiful?"

His eyes met hers as they silently pleaded him to agree, to see what she saw. Not answering, he gestured towards the counter behind her. "Come on." Letting her hop up, he then proceeded to wrap her ankle for her. Lifting her down from where she sat, he pointed to the door. "Let's see if we can find something to eat around here."

Rummaging through the kitchen they found cupboard after cupboard empty. Beth peered into the empty fridge and her heart sank. "Dang." Turning back to where Daryl was finishing up the cupboards, she asked, "You find anything?" He pulled the next cupboard open with a creak. Jackpot. There was two liters of pop, jugs of water, baby food jars, cans of veggies… "Whoa."

"Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pig's feet," Daryl observed. "That's a white trash brunch right there."

"It all looks good to me," she smiled down at the jar of peanut butter in her hand.

"No, hold up," he stopped her as he examined his own jar of jelly. "There ain't a speck of dust on this."

"So?"

"That means somebody just put it here. This is someone's stash. Maybe they're still alive." The two shared a look before he settled on a decision. "Alright, we'll take some of it and we'll leave the rest, all right?"

"I knew it," she beamed.

"Knew what?"

"It's like I said," she continued to smile up at him. "There's still good people."

He didn't know what to say. So in place of words, he dipped his index and middle finger into the grape jelly before sucking it off his fingers. "Mmm."

"Gross."

Daryl licked the inside of the jar as she moved to the table. "Hey," he called, pointing at the cabinet as he said, "Those pig's feet are mine."

After hanging up some tin cans on a string outside of the front door, Daryl checked the perimeter for any other ways of entry. Noe were to be found. The only way in now was the front door. All the windows were boarded up to keep out any unwanted company. They could enjoy a little peace of mind knowing that if a walker came waltzing up to the door, they would be alerted. Heading back inside, he heard the sweet tones of a piano playing down the hall. Stopping in the doorway, he watched and listened as Beth sang with the music, her voice calming him.

" _Pine for summer… Then we'll buy… a beer to shotgun… we'll lay on our lawn… and we'll be good…"_

Daryl chewed on his lip as he thought about Skye — the beautiful auburn tones in her hair shining under the Georgian sun, her smile radiating over at him as they laid in the grass back at the prison, their fingers interlocking… Clearing his throat, he startled Beth, making her spin on the piano bench to face him. "The place is nailed up tight. The only way in is through the front door. Walking over to the open casket at the side of the room, Daryl lifted himself up into it, completely surprising Beth.

"What're you doin'?"

"This is the comfiest bed I've had in years." He adjusted himself into a more comfortable position as he laid back.

"Really?"

"I ain't kiddin'." Laying his head back on the pillow, he stared up at the ceiling, the light from the candles flickering. "Why don't you go ahead and play some more? Keep singin'."

"I thought my singing annoyed you."

"There ain't no jukebox, so…"

With a small smile, Beth turned back to the piano to oblige. He gave her a small smile, but once her back was turned he let his eyes wander back up to the ceiling, rubbing his finger along his bottom lip as he thought about Skye once again. Even with Beth pushing him to have hope, to believe they would find her again, he was finding it extremely difficult to not let his doubts affect him so. Closing his eyes, he rested his hand on his forehead, fighting back any tears that threatened to well up behind his closed lids.

" _Now I'm laughing at my boredom… And my string of failed attempts…"_

The next morning, Daryl was awakened by the sound of his own stomach growling. You'd think you'd get used to being hungry all the time in the apocalypse but no… Rolling his head around, he released the tension in his neck left there by the odd angle he had to sleep in last night. Jumping from the casket, he found Beth asleep on the small loveseat by the doorway. Nudging her shoulder, he said, "Wake up. Let's get some food in us. We can get on the move once we eat."

Beth groaned but sat up all the same. "Five more minutes would've been absolutely wonderful, Daryl," she shot him a look.

"Oh, stop your bellyachin'."

Getting up from the seat, she made her way towards the kitchen where all their food from the night before was waiting for them.

"Hurry up," Daryl teased as he followed after her as she limped down the hallway.

"I'm goin' as fast as I can." She let out a small squeal as Daryl lifted her up bridal style and carried her into the kitchen, setting her down on the chair. "Whew."

"All right," he said, moving to take his own seat. "Let's eat." Reaching for the jar of pig's feet, he unscrewed the lid but froze as the sound of cans rattling hit their ears. Returning the jar to the table, he snatched up his crossbow, pointing at Beth as she made a move to follow. "Stay." Running to the front door with his weapon at the ready, he peeked through the slots of the boards. Not seeing anything, he cracked the door open. Once he saw what had been the cause of the noise, he opened the door fully to a medium size shaggy white dog who looked to have gotten into some accident that had resulted in him losing an eye. "It's just a damn dog," he hollered to Beth. Kneeling, he reached a hand out toward their guest. "Come here, boy." Just as he was about to pet him, the dog yelped and took off running, his tail catching on the string of cans as he fled. Chewing on his lip, Daryl got up and closed the door.

"He wouldn't come in?"

Daryl turned to face Beth, shooting her a look of annoyance. "I told you to stay back."

"Yeah, but Daryl, you said there was a dog." Her eyes were lit up with child-like excitement.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he guided her back toward the kitchen. "Maybe he'll come back around. Come on."

* * *

"What about that girl… you know, the one you brought back from being holed up with the group in that bar?"

Skye cast a sideways glance at her brother who was still determined to think of someone to ask out. "You mean, Rachel?"

"Yeah, Rachel," he smirked. "She's pretty, huh? I think we could make it work if—"

"Brady, she didn't make it," she cut him off. "The Governor's men…"

Brady frowned. "Hmm… Well how about—"

"Come on, Brady. Enough. What's gotten into you? Why are you thinking about this now?" she asked a little more sharply than she intended. Her feet were absolutely killing her after all the walking they were doing and her boots were beginning to rub.

"It's just… You know…" he shrugged.

"No, I don't. That's why I'm asking." She rose her eyebrows at her older brother.

"The apocalypse is just very, very… lonely. Before it all went down, I had dates left and right."

"I remember," she chuckled.

"None of those really meant anything. Just never found the right girl. You'd think it'd be even harder now, but…" he thought for a moment before continuing, "Then I see you and Daryl and yeah, sure you guys aren't exactly the poster couple for PDA, but we all know what's going on. The way he looks at you…. I want to be able to look at someone that way, to know that I'm not alone."

"Brady, you're not alone."

"I know, Sadie, but it's different. You should understand," he shook his head, rubbing at his neck. "I didn't think we were going to make it out of the prison. I honestly thought 'this is it. I'm going to die' but that didn't happen. I _believe_ that others made it out. I'm more than determined to find someone, to find my Daryl." As the words left his mouth, he regretted them, especially when Skye let out a burst of laughter. "I swear if you tell him I said that then you are dead."

Skye made a motion of zipping up her lips. "Not a word," she laughed.

Leaves rustled up ahead, stopping their laughter. Raising their weapons, they crept forward, ready for anything. As they drew closer, a flash of white jumped out from behind the bush. "Hey! Look at you." Brady knelt down to the white dog's level. "Where'd you come from, buddy? Look at this, Sadie, only has one eye."

"Aww. Poor guy," Skye frowned.

"Come on over. Come here," Brady motioned for the dog to come closer, but it just stared at him, not budging.

"Give it up, Brady. He's not moving," Skye shook her head, but just a second later the dog wagged his tail and pranced over to her, sitting at her feet. Reaching down, she scratched behind his ears, earning a glare from her brother. "Smart dog," she teased. "You have an owner, cutie?"

At that, the dog spun around and began walking off the way he had came. Brady and Skye shared a look and Brady shrugged. "It's not like we have any other ideas of where to go."

Adjusting her backpacks straps on her shoulders, she and her brother followed after the dog with the sun setting above.

* * *

"What're you doin'?" Daryl asked, watching as Beth pulled out a notepad and pen.

"I'm going to leave a thank you note."

Dipping the spoon in for some more jelly, he asked, "Why?"

"For when they come back. If they come back. Even if they come back, I still want to say thanks."

Daryl thought over it a second, sucking the jelly from his spoon before saying, "Maybe you don't have to leave that." Beth eyed him skeptically. "Maybe we stick around here for a while. They come back, we'll just make it work. They may be nuts, but maybe it'll be all right."

A wide smile spread on Beth's lips. "So you do think there are still good people around."

Daryl shrugged it off as if it wasn't a big deal.

Beth chuckled. "Well, what changed your mind?"

Daryl's eyes bounced from the jelly jar to Beth. "You know."

"What?"

Daryl just stared back at her, slightly uncomfortable under her stare. He didn't want to say the name… "I don't know," he mumbled.

"Don't… I don't know," she mimicked. "What changed your mind?" His eyes didn't leave hers and she knew — it had been so obvious. "Oh."

The cans rattled outside followed by the whimper of a dog, providing the perfect distraction from their uncomfortable silence. Grabbing a can of pig's feet, Daryl said, "I'm gonna give that mutt one last chance."

* * *

"He took off in this direction, right?" Brady asked, squinting his eyes trying to catch sight of where the dog had gone.

"I'm sure of it, but does it really matter?" Skye shrugged, just trying not to trip over something in the dark. "I mean, what on earth would we do if we caught up to it?"

"I don't know. New pet?" Brady smiled.

"Yeah, right. That is not practical nowadays. That would mean more food, noise, —" Her words trailed off as she caught sight of something. "Look." She pointed at the small pile of yellow flowers resting on the headstone at her right. "These are fresh. Some picked them from right here recently." Tilting her head, she read the tombstone, "Holloway, November 12th 1837 to December 10th 1874, Beloved Father." Poor man was only 37… Something clicked. " _Beloved Father_ ," she repeated. "You think maybe Beth or Maggie put these flowers here?"

"That's a bit of a reach, Sadie," Brady shook his head

Skye sighed. "I guess." Continuing on, she squinted her eyes. Up ahead she could barely make out the outline of a building. "Up ahead… is that a building?"

Suddenly, shattering the night quiet they could hear shouting coming from that direction. Without hesitation, both took off running towards the sound. Surrounding the building were numerous walkers, wandering aimlessly toward the building. Skye and Brady took any out that were in their way with their blades. They were getting closer when the sound of wood breaking came from the back of the house, drawing not only their attention but some of the walker's. Their eyes widened in disbelief as Beth fell out from the window onto the grass of the lawn.

"Oh, my God. Brady, Brady, it's Beth!" Skye took off after the younger Greene. "Beth!"

Beth spun toward them, her face flashing with relief before stabbing a walker in the head. She rushed towards them, out of breath from her struggle. "Daryl… He's inside."

Skye's heart sank. She moved to run toward the house, but her brother stopped her.

"No!," he yelled. "You stay here. I'll go help him."

"Brady, I—"

"Not up for discussion, Sadie. Stay with Beth!" Before she could protest further, he took off.

Frustrated, Skye kicked at the ground before running off to look for safety with Beth, mentally cursing at the fact they had finally found Daryl and she had to run in the opposite direction. However, she did find some relief in knowing that he had made it out. Now she just need to make sure he made it out of that funeral home.

Once they were in a clear area on the road, Beth wrapped Skye in an unexpected hug. "I can't believe it," the girl beamed, stepping back to stare at Skye. She looked almost as if she didn't believe she was even there.

"I'm so glad you guys made it out," Skye forced a smile. She wished she could be happier after finding Beth, but she was having trouble seeing as how Daryl and her brother were back there surrounded by who knew how many walkers. Her legs bounced nervously as she watched for any signs of movement.

"Is it just you two?" Beth asked.

"Yeah. Just us. I take it you haven't run into anyone else?"

"Nope. Just us…" Both girls stood in silence, waiting. A twig snapping behind them had them both turning, but before they could see what had caused the noise… everything went black.

* * *

"Daryl!" Brady yelled, his voice sounding throughout the funeral home. He took down a couple walkers lingering in the hallway, but from the sounds of it the majority of them were downstairs. "Daryl!" he yelled again and this time he heard the familiar voice call, "Down here!"

Brady sliced his knife into the eye of a male walker at the top of the stairs, pushing him back to keep him from blocking the staircase. He had a feeling Daryl was going to need a clean retreat. Hurrying down the stairs, he heard Daryl call out once more, "I'm comin'."

"It's clear upstairs." Just as Brady was about to round the corner on the stairs, he came face to face with Daryl, who yanked a bolt from a dead walker on the landing before the two retreated back upstairs, slamming the door behind them to lock the remaining walkers in the basement.

Out of breath, Daryl grabbed onto Brady's shirt. "Skye? Where is she? Did she—"

"She's fine," Brady nodded. "She's outside with Beth."

Daryl felt a ginormous weight lift from his shoulders and he didn't want to wait any longer to see her. Pushing Brady ahead of himself, they both ran outside. Darting through the walkers, they hurried off towards the road where Daryl had told Beth to go. Stopping in their tracks, they came up on three walkers. While Daryl swung his bow forward, knocking the jaw from the walker, Brady sliced through the air, taking down the other two. The road was just up ahead.

"What the hell?!" Brady exclaimed, seeing his sister's backpack lying with another in the center of the road. The contents were scattered on the pavement. They wouldn't have just left them there like that…

A squealing of tires jerked their attention as a car took off down the road, a giant white cross decorating the back window. "No!" Daryl yelled. "Skye! Beth!"

The two men ran after the car, determined to catch up to it even though the odds were against them. They ran and they ran… but it was no use. Hope faded as they came up to a fork in the road. Daryl let his crossbow fall to the pavement as Brady leant forward onto his knees, catching his breath. "Now what?"

Daryl fell back to sit on the road, head bowed between his knees. Brady rubbed his hands on his seat drenched face and up into his hair, standing with his hands over his head as he stared down at Daryl. He had never seen this man look so defeated.

She had been so close… She was right there not even one hundred yards from him and he didn't even get to see her. Daryl felt the fight leave his body for a moment, but only a moment before it was replaced with the fire to find her. He now knew she was alive. He _would_ find her.

"Look, man," Brady dropped to kneel in front of Daryl. "She'll be alright. My sister… she's a fighter. Whoever took her won't even know what hit them, huh?"

"Either will you," a voice sounded from behind Brady, jerking him back up to his feet.

Brady was now face to face with a greying man with a goatee and a full on cowboy shirt decked out with rose patterns while Daryl remaining on the ground with his crossbow at his side.

"Well, lookit here," the man said as his men circled around Daryl and Brady. The man reached down to take Daryl's crossbow but was met with a swift fist to the face, knocking him back onto his ass.

Daryl and Brady drew weapons on the armed men, earning guns pointing back at them in return. Daryl scowled at the grey-haired man, pointing his crossbow at him as he rose to his feet.

"Dammit, hold up!" the man ordered his men.

"I'm claiming the vest," a man shouted from behind Daryl. His long brown haired clung to the sweat on his forehead. "I like them wings."

"Hold up," their leader said again, wiping the blood that had spurted from his nose. Taking in the sight of the crimson now on his finger, a deep laugh erupted from his chest. Brady glanced over his shoulder at Daryl, hoping for a sign of what the plan was. Addressing Daryl, the man said, "A bowman. I respect that. See, a man with a rifle," he pointed toward Brady, "He could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But a bowman's a bowman through and through. What you got there?" He nodded towards Daryl's crossbow. "Hundred fifty pound draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't fire at least three hundred feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that. Of course, I'd want one with a bit more ammo and minus the oblongata stains."

The man behind Daryl chuckled. "Get yourselves in some troubles, partner?"

"You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop ya several times over. That what you want? Come, on fellas. Suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?" he gave them a devilish grin. The man waited. When neither Daryl nor Brady lowered their weapons, he added, "Name's Joe."

Knowing he wouldn't have a chance of finding Skye if he was dead, Daryl lowered his crossbow to his side. "Daryl."

Following Daryl's example, Brady lowered his gun as well. "Brady."

The men surrounding them lowered their weapons as Joe smiled at the two men, excited to welcome them to his group.

 **Alrighty! I had to break this up into two because it was getting long. haha. I loved the comments! I do plan to switch some things up from the show. Some things may make you happy and some may make you sad. :/ I haven't completely settled on everything yet...**

 **Reviews, please!**


End file.
